


Bleeding Skies

by lovestowrite238



Series: Friendship and Dangerous Skies [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Car Accidents, Comfort/Angst, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kira - Freeform, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, McCall Pack, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski & Malia Tate Friendship, Stiles-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6239275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovestowrite238/pseuds/lovestowrite238
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How a simple flight can end up being everyone’s worst nightmare.<br/>Plane-sick Stiles who's afraid of flying. A burning car. An explosion. A dead pilot. Three Werewolves, a Coyote and a  Banshee stuck in the desert with one very badly injured human who cannot heal himself. Add to that some very bad people, mountain lions, loads of problems, loads of angst, friendship, hurt, pain and stress, and there you have it. This story is blatant Stiles-Whumping (and then some for some other characters too) and I do mean Whumping, with loads and loads of hurt/comfort and angst as sugar coating. Ah yes, there is also a lot of friendship going on, with Sciles, Stydia, Stalia and Sterek-hints to top it all.<br/>I’ve taken a bit of liberty with the area our characters travel in, even though most of it is based on real locations and towns.<br/>Any medical errors are on my behalf, even though I did do a lot of research for this.<br/>This is by the way, the longest fic I’ve even written, so bear with me. Thanks :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plane

**Chapter One: The plane**

Derek Hale could barely hide his amusement as he watched Stiles wiggle uncomfortably on the small, exquisitely expensive seat inside the ridiculously expensive private plane, gripping the edges of the beautiful mocha-colored leather tight while he clenched his teeth.

The oldest of the wolves sat in front of the only human on board, watching his nerves toy with him, debating to keep quiet or to add more oil to the fire of the sweaty human. In the end, he couldn’t hold it anymore, knowing this was the perfect opportunity to tease Stiles.

‘Come on, Stiles,’ the oldest wolf grinned, bearing his perfect white teeth while he rubbed his stubbly chin, knowing all too well he is the cause behind Stiles’ distress. ‘It really isn’t that bad. You’re safer on a plane than in that crooked jeep of yours, you do know that, right? Which, if I recall correctly, you’ve already smashed several times. It’s a miracle that thing is still able to drive.’

Stiles just grunts, closing his eyes as beads of sweat pour down his forehead, some of them dripping on his bottom lip, others sticking to his cheeks as he slightly flushes. He hates flying, always has. His dad told him once it has to do with this one time when they flew up to Boston to discuss his mother’s condition with a neurologist, and had ended up in a hellish storm right before landing. He was only six years old then, but had remembered every single moment for years after. His distressed mother had held him while he cried out to his parents they were all going to die.

Since then, Stiles has been adamant about flights, refusing to go on overseas trips or even short trips out, vowing to keep his feet glued to the ground for the rest of his life. But this time, he got screwed over big time by the others, having agreed to go with the gang before he knew he was supposed to travel by plane.

Worse than that, he’s currently stuck in an all too small private plane with two engines and twelve seats. Commuter flights he actually might have gotten used to eventually. Hell, he even debated following airplane-phobia sessions to get rid of the biggest fear in his life. But this? No, he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

No matter what anyone ever said about risks and chances and percentages about plane crashes, there was always the chance something could go terribly wrong. And then, they’d all be stuck inside this all too small aircraft, with no way out.

Stiles kept that in mind as he onboard the damned thing, feeling Scott’s hand firmly grip around his wrist to get him on board. He really doesn’t want to be here, he still doesn’t. And he’s upset that they not only did _not_ listen to him, they also coerced him to do so, knowing he would never say no when they all went and he wouldn’t.

‘Seriously, plane crashes occur rarely, you shouldn’t worry about a thing,’ Derek continued, a teasing smile playing on his face. ‘Stop gripping that seat, Stiles, you’ll rip out the damned upholstery. Who’s going to pay for that, you think?’

‘Tell that to the passengers of Malaysian Airlines,’ Stiles grunts, refusing to look out the window to take in the beautiful desert area they were currently crossing. ‘Or that guy who crashed his plane deliberately against a mountain in Europe. Remember that one? He locked the cockpit door when the captain went to the loo, and then changed the course. Who says this guy up there is reliable? He might be a serial killer or some supernatural wendigo-flying-monster deciding to kill us all.’

Next to him, Scott snorts before groping another handful of peanuts from the small, fully stacked bar to his right. ‘Stiles, you are the most fearless person I know. What’s wrong with you, dude? This whole flight-phobia thing of yours is pretty scary.’

‘You want to talk about scary?’ Stiles mumbles, grabbing Scott’s wrist so tight he actually winces. ‘I’ll show you scary if that pilot proposes yet another circling around the area for one good extra look at this so-called beautiful scenery. I will go up front and knock his teeth out, I swear.’

Scott slowly releases Stiles’ grip of his wrist, grinning at him. ‘The amount of money you spent on tape to patch up that jeep of yours, could feed four families, Stiles. Derek does have a point. Why be uncomfortable for such a long time when you get offered the luxury of a private plane with all the extras?’

‘Don’t we have champagne on board so we can drunk-feed him?’ Derek mumbles as he plays a game on his smartphone. ‘Might shut him up for a while.’

Stiles kicks the werewolf’s leg. ‘Thanks for your support.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Liam, sitting next to Derek, just grins. ‘You kids seem to be having fun bitching about flights, but I do agree I like this plane ride a whole lot better than sitting in the back of your not-so-fancy jeep, Stiles. You really should get the same upholstery.’

Stiles glares at the youngest wolf on board. ‘Seriously, Liam? One more word about my jeep, and I’ll strap you behind it instead of in it. How’s that for a change?’

Liam laughs. ‘I was just saying how much I admire what you did with her, Stiles. Seriously, you fix her u every single time, you’ve even replaced her engine with tape. I don’t know how you do it.’

Stiles curses under his breath as the two-engine plane hits an air pocket and shakes them all slightly, paling him even more. His already upset stomach isn’t fond of the sudden movements of the aircraft, which he considers as damned unstable.

‘Crap. Fuck. Hell,’ he mutters angrily. ‘I swear to god he can land right here and drop me off. I’ll walk the rest of it.’

Lydia sighs deeply as she leans forward between Stiles and Scott. She’s sitting behind them, next to Malia, enjoying the view. Or at least trying to, as the conversation unnerves her. Unlike Stiles, she actually likes flying in small planes.

‘Scott, stop snorting with your mouthful,’ she orders, lifting her eyes to the skies. ‘And Stiles, stop swearing so much. Yes, you are right, statistically speaking there’s always a chance of crashing, about one in ten million or so, but there’s more chance of being stuck out in the desert with your jeep because you forgot to repair something that turns out to be significantly important for the actual driving. So, if you don’t mind, keep all the gory plane-is-going-to-crash stories to yourself. And besides, eight hours of driving in your very uncomfortable jeep hurts my back. Besides, that thing couldn’t fit us all in.’

Malia pushes Lydia slightly aside as she leans over Stiles’ seat, cradling the top of his head, hugging him in an awkward, but cute manner, showing her support. Or not.

‘I actually like this flying thing, Stiles. It’s quite nice not having to listen to the roaring engine of your broken down jeep for once. But on the other hand, that jeep does have other uses,’ she adds, grinning when Stiles flushes an embarrassed scarlet red.

‘Will you guys stop bashing my jeep already?’ Stiles reacts, clawing his hands even further into the leather by the second air pocket while Malia lets go and sinks back down. ‘Besides, it’s only four hours to get there and it’s not like we haven’t done that before, remember? Beats one hour on this stupid thing any time.’

From the front, the pilot calls out to them, telling them to take a look outside. ‘We’re right in the center of Great Rock Desert,’ he points out, ‘isn’t it beautiful? You can certainly get lost around here.’

Stiles looks out briefly, staring at the countryside, immediately paling once again when the pilot makes a small nose dive to allow them a better look. He’s been doing that ever since they left, without anyone’s actual request they _want_ to have a better look.

‘Are we there yet?’ he begs quietly, staring intently at Derek who has arranged this flight, hoping the oldest wolf will feel sorry for hum at one point. He was the one inviting them over for a weekend in Palm Springs, popping the question unexpectedly a few days ago.

‘I have some distant relatives living down there,’ he explained while asking, ‘they invited me over and told me to bring some friends. For one reason or the other, they seem to believe I don’t have anyone in my life at all. They obviously think I’m some kind of isolated lunatic.’

‘Aren’t you?’ Stiles blurted out, receiving a kick in the ribs from Scott.

Derek eyed him angrily, only to snort immediately after. ‘You know what, Stiles? You actually do have a point. I _am_ kind of dark and crazy, aren’t I?’

‘Dark, brooding, introvert, dangerous, killer instinct. That sort of sums it up,’ Stiles retorted. ‘Does your family know by the way that you’re a bloodsucking werewolf?’

‘Vampires suck blood, we just bite,’ Derek replied. ‘And yes, they do, because they too enjoy eating fresh young human flesh.’

‘Ah, so we’re dinner?’

‘No,’ Derek corrected, ‘not Scott, or Liam, or Lydia or Malia. They prefer _human_ flesh. So, why don’t you tag along?’

Stiles paled and then grinned, dropping his smartphone for the sixth time that day by accident. ‘Scott, seriously? We are actually going to head out and meet Mr. and Mrs. Cannibal?’

Derek burst into laughter at that. ‘Stiles, we’re not cannibals. And don’t worry, they’re harmless. They’re vegetarian.’

Scott grinned at that, gently kicking Stiles in the ribs.

‘I still don’t trust you,’ Stiles mutters quietly. ‘You usually have a motive when you ask things like this.’

‘Have I ever asked you to join me on a weekend away before?’

‘No, the more the reason not to trust you now,’ Stiles blurted out.

‘Look, they have a mansion right down in the center of Palm Springs and they have no other family but me and Peter, and you know that certainly is not an option. They’ve been over to the loft a few times and have asked me to come over now. That’s it. And if you don’t want to come, that’s fine too. But think about it, a weekend away bathing in the sun, catching up on some vitamin D at an amazing swimming pool. Sounds like a punishment, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah, it is to me,’ Stiles blurted out, receiving a second kick in the ribs from Lydia, who had smiled broadly at Derek at the sound of swimming pool and sunbathing. Then Malia kicked him too, her dark eyes sparkling.

‘I didn’t even know people could own swimming pools,’ she mumbled.

Derek leaned over to her. ‘And it’s huge, trust me.’

‘So, when do we leave again?’ the girls retorted in unison.

Stiles stared at Lydia and Malia, suddenly envisioning both of them in small, tight bikinis, lingering in the sun, waiting for someone to rub their backs with sun lotion. Pushing back the vision and the effects this had on the lower part of his body, he nodded his agreement, without realizing at that point they would be flying.

He had expected them to drive by car, had been preparing his beloved jeep for the four-hour journey, when Derek texted him to let him know his relatives were sending a plane over. It would only take an hour and a half to fly over there, but to Stiles it felt like his world was falling apart. He had nearly bit his tongue right there and then, shocked at the idea Derek’s family was rich enough to _send over a plane_. Who were these people?

Once he recovered from that, Stiles had immediately envisioned a small, suffocating plane crashing straight into the desert, leaving its passengers burned to a crisp between the wreckage.

‘Oh no,’ he told Scott frantically, ‘I’m not flying over. Palm Springs? Yeey! Flight? Not so yeey!’

‘Come on, Stiles, sooner or later you have to get on a plane,’ Scott pushed him. ‘You can’t avoid them forever, you know? Planes take you places, allow you to see the world. There’s more out there than just Beacon Hills, you know? What are you going to do if you study at the other side of the country?’

‘Not come back for a year or take the train,’ Stiles mumbled.

‘So you’d prefer to be stuck a day on a train sitting between five other sweaty passengers, instead of a three-hour flight?’

‘You betcha. Wanna watch me puke an hour long? I don’t think so!’ Stiles reacted. ‘You guys can fly and I’ll take the jeep. I can do that and still beat you in time. Waiting hours and all that. But I am _not_ going to go on that plane.’

‘Then you tell Derek yourself,’ Scott grinned.

‘I just won’t tell him. You tell him.’

‘Why? I’m not the one chickening out.’

‘Excuse me? I’m _not_ chickening out. I’m just … being cautious,’ Stiles protested weakly.

‘You are totally chickening out,’ Liam pointed out dryly. ‘We can knock you out, if you like. Your skull is pretty weak, one good blow to the side of your head and you’re out for a couple of hours.’

‘And then knock him a concussion?’ Lydia reacted dryly. ‘No, he has to stay awake.’

Stiles grunted. ‘Not you too, Lydia. Seriously?’

‘Why are so scared of flying?’ Malia asked curiously. ‘So what it if crashes? I’ll get you out.’ She smiled and kissed her boyfriend on the lips. ‘Stiles, come on, I’ve never seen a house with a pool before, you can’t deny me that, can you?’

‘Easy for you to say. If it crashes, you can heal yourself, Malia. But me? I’ll be dying a slow, agonizing death,’ Stiles muttered angrily, jealous because Kira was not coming along, as her parents were taking her on a trip that weekend, despite her protests to go with her friends instead.

The rest of agonizing days before they left, Stiles searched for excuses to escape too, but found none. He even debated asking her parents to take him too, but her mother would probably try to poke him all weekend to find out if the Nogitsune is really gone forever. She’s been begging for him to speak to her about it, something he’s been avoiding since long. So he gave up on that idea.

Ultimately, it was his dad who patted him on the shoulder and pushed him straight into Derek’s arms, telling him to have a great time. Stiles had debated to simply _forget_ his weekend bag so he would have an excuse to stay at home, but his dad had sensed this and had packed behind his back.

‘Some day you have to face your fears,’ his last words were. ‘Now you go have a great time and just forget you’re on a plane. It’ll be fine.’

He swore he could hear his dad whisper to his friends, ‘Just feed him enough Dramamine to knock him out and you’ll be fine. Otherwise, tie him up and make sure he doesn’t puke.’

And that was the end of it.

Suddenly the plane makes an unexpected move, heading deeper into the desert. Stiles looks up frantically, grabbing Scott’s wrist tight for the second time as he calls out, ‘We’re gonna crash, aren’t we?’

For the first time, Derek too looks pale.


	2. The  Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so very very much for your nice comments! I really didn't expect so much positiveness ;).  
> I'm truly in awe of you all.  
> I wrote the entire story, so I'll definitely try to update on a daily basis. Thanks again!

**Chapter 2: The Desert**

The pilot of the small, expensive private plane has no idea that one of his passengers is freaking out, as he kept the door between the cockpit and the back closed. Now, while he nosedives his aircraft, wanting them to enjoy the scenery, he switches from intercom to the opening of the door and calls out to them.

'This desert is a fantastic piece of nature, can you see that? This particular part we are right above, is called Black Rock Desert. You have to be careful not to get lost there, it's quite dangerous.'

'No kidding,' Stiles mutters angrily, releasing his grip on Scott's wrist for the second time.

'Sometimes the desert animals don't see a human being for days. During the day it's extremely hot, but at night it can cool off quite a bit, especially during this part of the year. And then there are some wild animals of course. If you get lost here, you won't last very long, I'm afraid. Like I said, quite an interesting place in nature.'

'Good thing he doesn't know we have our own animals on board,' Stiles whispers, resulting in a grin from his fellow travelers. 'Is this thing fang-proof, you think?'

Scott takes out another pack of nuts stacked in one of the small compartments between the seats of the luxurious small plane, ripping it open. The smell of it nauseates Stiles to no end.

'Want some?' he offers, shoving the bag right under Stiles' nose.

'Like hell,' Stiles mutters, 'unless you want me to vomit on your lap. Seeing you literally dragged me in this suffocating prison, would serve you right too.'

'Lighten up, Stiles,' Derek retorts, 'we'll be there in twenty minutes. Don't be such a baby. You've already survived more than hour on this thing.'

Malia, looking outside to admire the scenery, leans over the seats again, eyeing Stiles' very pale face. 'I'll bet you fifty bucks he's going throw up before we hit the ground.'

'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' Stiles mutters, 'good thing to know I have my girlfriend backing me up.'

'Deal,' Derek accepts, shaking hands with her over Stiles' head, despite her boyfriend's protests. Malia snorts, leaning back against Lydia. The strawberry blonde just smiles, ignoring them all while she listens to the roaring engines and looks forward to the swimming pool. After all the stress they've been through lately, this comes as a pleasant gift.

'Thanks again, Derek,' she calls out to the werewolf.

He smiles. 'You're welcome.'

'Never thought I'd see the day you'd be smiling like that,' Stiles remarks, trying to focus on the man he knows considers him the occasional nuisance. 'Whatever happened to you?'

'I grew up,' Derek retorts. 'How about you?'

'I'll grow up after we get the hell out of this thing,' Stiles mutters, clutching his queasy stomach. Seriously, someone put me out of my misery. You may all escape car sickness and all that, but I am dying up here. How much longer?'

'Airplane sickness, you mean,' Derek corrects. 'Relax, Stiles, not much longer now. You've complained over the past five minutes, yet again, leaving fifteen more to fly.'

Liam just laughs out loud. 'His skin is actually turning grey. I didn't know you could do that.'

'It's been long enough,' Stiles croaks, 'can someone open a window so I can puke on that wonderful desert of his?'

'This is not a train, Stiles. You can't open a window on a plane,' Lydia gently reminds him, feeling sorry for him, where the others just seem to find it hilarious. She must admit that it is a funny sight to watch an already very nervous Stiles twitch even more, but it's gone on long enough.

She moves forward, shoving Scott out of the way as she examines Stiles' pale features. 'Did you take your Adderal today?'

'Tons of it. Why do you think I'm freaking out like this?'

Lydia pulls up an eyebrow. 'Why, for god sake?'

'Thought I was taking Dramamine and got all mixed up,' Stiles mutters, eyes closed. 'Can someone please hand me a bucket?'

'A plane doesn't have that either,' Derek mutters. 'And I swear I'll kill you if you throw up all over the upholstery of this million dollar plane. Here, grab this.' The oldest wolf reaches for a brown paper bag, handing it to Stiles who grasps it tightly, heaving into it. 'You really should be doing something about that anxiety of yours, Stiles. And that car sickness too.'

'Why do you think I usually do the driving?' Stiles groans. 'You all drive like crazy, and I end up hanging out the window. Besides, all of our problems will be solved when we crash.'

Suddenly the pilot swerves unexpectedly, changing his route for the second time, causing Stiles to curse out loud this time.

'Hey guys,' he calls out to the back of the plane, 'I see something weird. Look to your right for a second.'

At that very moment, Stiles feels cold fear run down his back. He can't even explain where it's coming from, or what it means, but he knows this just doesn't feel right. And his senses are usually right. He wants to shout out to the others not to listen to the pilot, to fly those last fifteen minutes and get into Palm Springs as quickly as possible. But he doesn't, regretting it afterwards, when all goes to hell.

The pilot doesn't even realize it at that moment, but his decision to retrace his steps and swerve once more over the deserted area they're flying over, will ultimately end up killing him.


	3. The Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the kind words and many reactions on this story! 
> 
> This is a lengthy chapter, hope you enjoy!

 

**Chapter 3: The Car**

Everyone but Stiles look out the right windows and catch onto it immediately. Smoke twirls up, starting off the ground, deep inside a desert valley, right underneath them. A trail of black smoke twirls towards the hot summer sky. In a few hours, the sun will start to sink and paint the skies blood-red.

‘That’s weird,’ Scott reacts troubled as he unbuckles his seatbelt and moves forward towards the pilot, taking a closer look from the cockpit’s point of view. ‘Didn’t you just say this is deserted area?’

‘It’s supposed to be, nobody is crazy enough to drive around these deserted roads,’ the pilot reacts. ‘There’s absolutely nothing here, no villages or towns, no water or food. Only sand, harsh winds and smaller dunes. I have no idea what that is.’

‘Can you take a closer look? Fly over it?’

‘Not if you want us to crash. Look, that valley is very small, the area where the smoke comes from, I can’t fly over. One wrong move could send us straight into a hill. I’m not taking that chance.’

Stiles listens intently to the conversation, hoping and praying Scott will tell him not to bother. But it wouldn’t be Scott if he wouldn’t be troubled and concerned.

‘What do you think that is then?’

‘Could be a car on fire,’ Derek offers, ‘or a truck that somehow got stranded here?’

‘There’s a long stretch of road where I can land,’ the pilot replies, pointing at the concrete slab right in front of them that twirls through the dunes, laid there a long time ago by people who cared about nature and respected it enough to work around it. ‘There are only three or four roads like this throughout many, many miles. All trucks know they have to avoid this area. If they break down, it can be hours before help comes, and believe me, you don’t want to be here in the dark. But I can land easily, and we can have a look.’

Stiles groans even louder. ‘You’re kidding me, right? Can’t you just call it in or something and let someone else go check this out? I swear I’m going to throw up all over your seats if you land now. Trust me, I’m not kidding.’

‘Stiles is right, we shouldn’t land if it’s so dangerous out here,’ Lydia says. ‘It’ll be dark in a couple of hours, this is not our concern. Let’s just call it in.’

‘Slight problem there,’ the pilot confesses, ‘my meters are totally off. I should have them checked, I know, my boss has been nagging me about it for ages.’

‘Then how the hell do you know where to go?’ Stiles asks angrily. ‘You might have flown us to Australia for all we know.’

‘Relax, son,’ the pilot replies easily. ‘I know this area by heart. Only, calling in would be like searching for a needle in a haystack afterwards, even if I explain it thoroughly to someone. We’ll just go and see for ourselves and make sure that everything’s okay down there. It won’t take a minute, I promise. I can touchdown and take off without a problem, the road is long enough. We’ll be in Palm Springs before you know it.’

Scott nods. ‘Do it then.’ He takes a seat up front, buckling up next to the pilot as he begins his descent.

‘Derek, seriously?’ Stiles nearly begs, staring at the older wolf before him. ‘This guy is freaking me out, does he really have to play heroics here? Let’s just move on and let someone else take care of this. We are supposed to be on a weekend off, remember? It’s not like things at home are always so quiet, you know?’

Derek looks up. ‘And what if it really is someone in trouble, Stiles? Would you abandon them?’

‘Come on, this is no-man’s-land. The only thing burning down here is a burning bush, and we all know how big that chance is,’ Stiles mutters, knowing all too well he’s being outnumbered by his companions,  who are very much eager to find out what’s going on.

For the first time ever, Stiles doesn’t care about mysteries. He just wants to land in Palm Springs, rent a car and drive back home as soon as possible. But he’s being outnumbered, and he knows, deep down, that Derek is right. There could be someone in trouble down there. What if they ignore it? What if someone dies because they ignored it?

He closes his eyes, trying not to spill his bile all over the plane as their pilot brings the aircraft down efficiently and lands it perfectly on the empty road. The landing itself is rather soft, to Stiles’ big surprise. Relieved he unbuckles, standing up on shaking legs.

The radiating desert heat is suffocating. Stiles immediately starts sweating as soon as the pilot opens the door and jumps out. His warm blue T-shirt sticks to his chest, his trousers feel like they’ve been glued to the plane’s chair. He sees the others seem to be bothered by the heat for a moment too. The girls are happy they are lightly dressed, the guys wished they were wearing shorts instead of jeans.

The pilot exits his plane determinedly, Derek, Liam and Malia tagging along with him as they walk at the same pace, heading towards the cause of the smoke

Lydia is the next one to exit, followed by Scott, who also plans to find out what’s going on. It’s Lydia who waits for a very hesitant Stiles, left behind on the plane for a moment, surprised by his lack of interest to investigate, realizing he really must have been feeling off. She feels guilty for teasing him, making a mental note to talk to the others about it and to give him a break.

‘Aren’t you coming, Stiles?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he waves, taking deep breaths as he inhales the too hot fresh air. The heat doesn’t make him feel much better, but at least the brief rest gives him a chance to recover from the plane sickness. Slowly he starts regaining color on his face, feeling better by the second.

He might actually survive the last fifteen minutes, he realizes, if he can live through another take off and descent. But this definitely will be the very last time he ever hops on a plane. That, he swears.

‘Better?’ Lydia asks, grabbing his hand.

‘Yeah,’ he grins weakly, realizing he does start to feel better by the second now.

The smoke comes from behind a small hill, hiding whatever it is from their view.  The group walks to the top of the sandy hill and spots a car with burning engine underneath its closed hood, standing in a small, steep valley, a long way from the main road where their plane is parked.

From the tracks on the dirt road where it’s standing, it’s clear the car has been driven here, only to come to an abrupt stop in the middle of the valley, deliberately taken there by someone who doesn’t mean well. Another cold vibe runs down Stiles’ back, as he overlooks the burning car.

‘Listen,’ Stiles says, closing his eyes as he stands beside Lydia on the hill, watching the others already approach the car cautiously. ‘Do you hear that?’

‘Hear what?’ Lydia asks surprised, ‘It’s deadly quiet here.’

‘Exactly. Isn’t it great?’ Stiles inhales the fresh air and looks around, taking in the beautiful scenery surrounding the burning car. ‘This is better, much better actually. Well, except for that burning car standing in the middle of the valley. That’s kind of stinking up the place.’

Lydia smiles understandingly, content Stiles’ humor was not lost along with the contents of his stomach, which he very discreetly emptied in that brown paper bag Derek shoved in his hands before exiting the plane.

‘I get your point. Let’s go.’ She stretches out her hand and he grabs it automatically, as they always wind up doing somehow. Together they hurry off the hill, following the others who stop halfway down the hill, stopping at a short distance facing the burning car.

‘Why would there be a vehicle burning in the middle of nowhere?’ Scott asks cautiously. ‘And what happened to its driver?’

‘Do you think there’s still someone inside?’ Derek asks, holding his hand above his eyes as he squints against the late afternoon sun. ‘I can’t really see, we have to move closer.’

‘I don’t know, I can’t tell,’ Scott says, realizing he can’t switch his eyes with their pilot there.

Scott is the first one to further slide downwards, approach the vehicle carefully. Liam is right behind him, followed by Derek, the pilot and Malia. Stiles helps Lydia as they follow the others.

‘Stupid kids playing with an old car, setting it on fire, I’ll bet you ten bucks on _that_ ,’ Stiles mutters under his breath.

As they approach the vehicle, Derek is the first one to see two bodies sitting in the front seats of the car, both burned to a crisp as the flames lick through the vehicle, leaving a trail of smoke and burn marks. It’s obvious the car had been burning for some time, still shedding black smoke and flames from its engine.

‘Okay,’ Stiles says out loud. ‘Guess I lost that bet.’

Curiously he moves forward towards the car, his investigative mind in full force again. Lydia stops in her tracks, grabbing Stiles’ sleeve.

‘Be careful,’ she warns quietly, her mind trying to figure out what her ability is trying to say to her. She feels darkness hanging over the area, but she can’t figure out what it means just yet.

‘A homicide?’ Derek asks out loud. ‘Car set on fire in the middle of the desert with two bodies in them, looks like a hit or something. They don’t exactly look like kids to me. Could be someone trying to get rid of the evidence and hoping no one would ever find them. Whoever would this far, right?’

‘Or a suicide pact?’ Malia offers. ‘Perhaps they did this to themselves.’

‘Strange suicide, setting yourself on fire,’ Stiles comments, automatically taking the lead as he moves slowly towards the car to take a closer look at the bodies, directing himself towards the pilot. ‘Do you have a fire extinguisher on the plane? If there’s anything of evidence left, we should try to preserve it for the cops.’

‘Yeah, I do.’

Stiles turns towards him, ‘You’d better go get them then before all of it goes up in flames. We might at least save some of it, even though it won’t be that much. It might be enough to help the investigation.’

‘Always the sheriff’s son,’ Scott quips while the pilot eyes the kid suspiciously, wondering if he’s not messing about. But Stiles already starts to walk circles around the car, trying to take in as much info as he can.

‘I’ll go,’ Malia says, turning around and hurrying back up the hill. Liam follows her, both running up the sandy hill, disappearing behind it as they head out to the parked plane.

The pilot walks towards Stiles, moving in circles with him while the teenager memorizes the license plate and details. He’s queasy at the sight of the burnt corpses, but his mind automatically starts treating them as if they’re props from a movie.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Gathering evidence.’

‘But you’re not touching the car.’

‘No,’ Smiles, tapping his head. ‘I’m storing information. My dad’s the sheriff at Beacon County. I picked up a few trades here or there.’

‘I see.’ The pilot’s stomach protests at the sight of the burn victims. ‘What do you think this is then?’

‘Definitely a murder,’ Stiles says, grabbing his phone to make photos, while Scott and Derek talk and Lydia stands quietly at a distance, watching him. ‘They didn’t stand a chance. You see that? Their hands are tied together to prevent them from escaping the vehicle. Whoever did this, definitely didn’t want them out. And from the looks of it, they were burned alive too.’

‘How can you tell?’ The pilot asks, biting back the bile down his stomach. Scott is fascinated as he watches Stiles take photos, seemingly unmoved by the burn victims. It’s almost as if he’s able to see through them, searching only for relevant evidence.

‘Didn’t that kid puke at the sight of blood?’ Derek inquires dryly.

‘Uh huh.’

‘My stomach is turning of that godawful smell. And he’s walking around as if it’s nothing.’

‘He doesn’t have a werewolf scent. And he’s in the zone,’ Scott remarks with a smile in his voice, listening to Stiles’ further explanation to the pilot.

‘Zone?’

‘He always gets that when he’s investigation. He has this whole board at home with cases he sneaks out of his dad’s office and looks through them when he’s bored or too hyped to sleep.’

Derek pulls an eyebrow. ‘So why doesn’t he simply take a sleeping pill then.’

Scott snorts. ‘Do you even _know_ Stiles, Derek? He lives on four hours per night, give or take.’

The older wolf pulls another eyebrow but says nothing more as he starts listening to Stiles’ explanation.

‘Look at the way their bodies are seated in the car, heads turned backwards as they strained their necks. They died in agony, mouths open and bodies withering against the fire. It was painful. And if you look closely, you can see that the car doors were jammed as well. You see those rocks? They were put there deliberately. Even if they had been able to free themselves, they would never have gotten out. On their own account, even if they were able to get rid of the ropes.’ Stiles sinks down on his knees. ‘I’m pretty sure there were two of them. There are two different sets of shoeprints.’

Stiles scans the scene as if he’s the sheriff himself, shrugging when he sees Derek gaze at him. ‘I read casefiles I steal from my dad’s office when I’m bored, sorry.’

‘Yeah, Scott just told me,’ Derek snorts, as he eyes Scott who raises his eyes to the skies. Stiles looks around, ignoring the wolves as he continues his investigation. ‘Look, there are more tracks down here. There were two cars here and the second one left in a hurry by the looks of it. You see the skid marks? It obviously didn’t have any problems driving up the hill, so it must have been a jeep or SUV.’ Then he snorts. ‘Of course it’s a jeep, what else? Scott, can you take some pictures of that?’

Scott takes out his phone to take a bunch of pictures of the traces, knowing that the desert is merciless and will get rid of the traces soon. Sand drifts up all around them, as the late afternoon sun slowly becomes an evening one, still brooding hot over the valley.

Derek kneels down and touches the ground. ‘I’m picking up a scent,’ he tells Scott quietly, making sure the pilot doesn’t hear. ‘There are four different ones, two filled with fear and sweat, so I’m guessing they’re from our crispy critters there. And the other two are filled with rage and anger and stop right at those skid marks.’

The pilot feels goose bumps crawl up all over his clammy skin as Stiles finishes his remarks. ‘That’s terrible. Disgusting, really. Who would ever want to burn people alive, no matter what they did?’

‘I don’t know. And yes, it is,’ Stiles says slowly. ‘People can be very cruel. You would be surprised to what horrors people are capable of.’

The pilot eyes him surprised but doesn’t say anything while they return to the rest of the group standing on the other side of the car.

‘Can you call your dad?’ Scott asks. ‘Can he send some officials here?’

‘I already tried but there’s no reach here,’ Stiles shrugs. ‘Phones are useless out here. We’d better go back to the plane and use the radio.’

The pilot nods. ‘Night will fall soon and if we don’t hurry, nobody might make it here until morning,’ he explains. ‘Evenings fall very quickly in these parts and I’d hate to be stuck out here tonight. To be honest, we might as well head back to the plane and continue the last part of our flight. There’s nothing much we can do right now.’

‘If I can get a hold on my dad from the radio, he’ll send people over in the morning,’ Stiles shrugs. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do for these two anyhow.’

The pilot nods. ‘I’ll be happy to move on. Who would do such a vicious thing?’

‘That’s for others to find out,’ Derek says, eyeing Stiles who is still taking a few pictures, sweating from the hot sun that bakes them all. ‘I’m pretty sure Stiles’ photos will help.’

Scott takes a few steps backwards while he takes away his phone. They are literally _are_ in no-man’s-land, with no sound around them, but the continuous sound of flames extruding the car’s hood. Liam and Malia appear on top of the hill, carrying two fire extinguishers with them.

Stiles kneels down and takes one last photo of the second car track, while the pilot sniffs his armpits and decides it’s time to go.

Suddenly, Derek looks up, sniffing the air.

‘What is it?’ Scott asks troubled.

‘Something’s off,’ the oldest wolf mutters. ‘The smell is poignant. Something’s changed. We have to get out of here _now_.’

He steps forward, heading for Stiles at the exact same time Scott does too, both eager to alarm Stiles and the pilot.

The next moment Lydia shrieks, shattering the silence with her hoarse, strong voice. Finally her brain puts together the dots, realizing what it is that’s about to happen. ‘Stiles, get back!’ she screams.

Startled by her call, Stiles rises up and looks at her, realizing her warning is real. He sees Derek and Scott head towards hem, as he makes way towards them. He hears Malia cry out his name, dropping the fire extinguisher. He sees Liam do the same, running down the hill quickly.

Stiles turns towards the pilot, grabbing him by the arm, grabbing his attention.

‘We have to go _now_ ,’ he urges the surprised man. Then he runs to Lydia who stands the nearest to him and pulls her with him. As Stiles looks around, he sees the car explode. He is thrown backwards as part of the metal flies straight into him. He falls hard to the ground, landing next to Lydia, instinctively protecting her with his body when the shattering blast crashes their world. The next thing they know, the car explodes, throwing the entire group on the desert ground.

Turning the world pitch black for all of them.


	4. The Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for the very nice and lovely comments! I hope this story will continue to please.  
> Now it just begins ...

**Chapter 4: The Hurt**

After a long, deafening silence, Scott is the first to move, heat surrounding him as he lies unmoving on the desert ground. It takes him quite some time to wake up, remembering slowly what had happened and why he’s here like this.

Dazed the Alpha crawls up, shaking his head slight as he pushes his hands against his ears. A loud ringing protrudes his skull, deafening his ears. He comes to realize quickly that he was out of the count for quite some time. And that now, as he awakens, the silence is shattered by a constant harsh tone. Slowly the sound is replaced by a numbing, throbbing pain. He’s finally able to move.

As he sits up and looks down, he sees blood all over himself. A piece of shrapnel has pierced his side, another one has gone right through his arm. Carefully wincing, he pulls the remaining metal out, holding his hand against the wound as he forces himself to return to reality.

Finally, he remembers it all. He is not alone. Next to him, Derek stirs at long last, lying on his back with his face turned to the right. As soon as he blinks, he also groans at once, clutching his head. Scott realizes he hears the exact same sound as he does.

‘Fuck, that hurt,’ the older wolf mumbles when the pain subsides inside his head, sitting up gently as he rubs his legs and scans his own body for injuries. A piece of glass has embedded itself into his arm. He pulls it out himself and throws the bloodied piece on the ground. His ankle is broken, which he twists with a sickening sound into position again. He doesn’t even realize he also broke his wrist until he starts using his hand. Scott resets the bones with a quick, swift haul before standing up to search for the others.

Derek follows as soon as he’s able to stand on his broken ankle and curses under his breath. For a second, he actually believes he’s on fire, as the heat that threw them to the ground radiates so much, his entire form seems to feel it. Flames of fire rise high up to the skies, scattering every last bit of the vehicle they went to investigate and its drivers.

Halfway down the hill, Liam and Malia look up, both dazed but unharmed. Liam helps Malia up, quickly checking her for injuries. She smiles weakly, nodding that she’s okay. But she shouts when her eyes catch the two people who still haven’t moved yet, at the exact same time Scott and Derek hurry towards them too.

Stiles and Lydia are still down for the count. Lydia is lying on her belly, face resting on the surface, her long hair covering most of her shoulders. Stiles lies on his side, somehow on top of her, half of his body and arm protectively resting over her.

As the rest of the pack approaches, Lydia suddenly looks up, half lying underneath Stiles. Terrified tries to move away from underneath him, trying to free herself from his dead, unmoving weight. Her face bleeds, one of her ears has blood coming out of it.

Derek helps her by gently pushing Stiles’ weight away from her while holding him, then rolls him back, too afraid to hurt his unconscious form. Lydia leans into Scott’s arms, holding on tight as he scans her body for injuries. Gently he prods her head, trying to figure out if she has a concussion or worse. She pushes him away, staring terrified at Stiles. Her head throbs and her ears ring like crazy, but she doesn’t care.

Stiles is lying on his side, eyes closed and head bloodied, one arm underneath him and the other resting over his chest. Still he hasn’t moved.

‘Stiles?’ Lydia calls out, crawling towards him. The group focuses on the unmoving human, gently trying to figure out how bad he’s hurt. Derek sits behind him, holding him by the shoulders gently. Liam stands awkwardly, seeking out Scott as he doesn’t know what to do.

 As Malia kneels down and cups his face, Stiles suddenly opens his eyes, staring straight at them all. Immediately he tries to move, his eyes showing his panic.

‘Stiles, don’t move,’ Scott says, holding him down. ‘Let me check if you’re okay first.’

‘I’m fine,’ comes out of Stiles’ mouth, his voice so raw it startles Malia. Slowly his pupils are able to focus again. ‘What happened?’ Again that raw voice, betraying there’s something off.

‘The car blew up,’ Derek says behind him, his hands still gripping Stiles’ shoulders, supporting him gently, his hands sensing the pain and hurt inside Stiles’ body.

‘Can you try and sit up?’ Scott asks, unable to find more injuries, apart from the blood on Stiles’ face. Derek catches Scott’s gaze and slightly shakes his head. _Something’s wrong, but I don’t know what it is._

The human nods and moves awkwardly into an upright position, helped by Derek and Malia. Relieved Lydia exhales, pushing back the sense something’s terribly wrong. But as her eyes finds Derek’s, she knows that she’s spot on.

Stiles grins painfully as he tries to stand on quivering legs. The heat behind them feels suffocating, he has trouble breathing properly.

‘I’m okay,’ he exhales, and then he stops speaking altogether.

Before he manages to stand upright, Stiles’ chest seems to explode. An excruciating pain rushes through him and he bends double, clutching his upper chest with his left arm, while his right one dangles useless next to him. He screams out in pure agony, piercing the strange desert silence and the sound of flames rising up to the skies.

Next to him the pilot lies dead on the ground, his eyes wide open as he stares into nothingness.

‘Stiles!’ Scott cries out, scrambling to catch his best friend as he falls back to the ground. Scott’s hands grabs him tight before his head collides with the hard ground. Lying half on his back, half on his side, his face contorted by extreme pain, Stiles screams out again so loudly it pierces Scott’s ears for the second time. He shuts his eyes, forcing back tears of pain.

The others stare shocked at the teenager lying crying from pain on the hard desert ground. They’ve never seen him like this before. Stiles can barely move, barely breathe and holds his left hand and arm tightly over his chest. His right arm is still useless.

‘Stiles, what’s wrong? Where do you feel pain?’

Lydia tries to move their friend on his back to take a better look at him, but he refuses, panting and heaving as soon as she touches him. Then Scott is there too, gently touching his chest as he tries to get his best friend to speak. His hands prod Stiles’ chest gently, trying to find the cause of the pain. Derek does the same, pulling up Stiles’ shirt until the teenager’s stilled form stops him. Stiles refuses to move his hand and arm, clutching his chest so tight they know they can’t see what’s wrong.

Liam stands beside the group, using his shadow to protect Stiles’ face and upper body from the sun. Malia sits behind Stiles next to Derek, gently rubbing her boyfriend’s back as Scott and Lydia try to figure out what is wrong with him.

Stiles is completely out of it from sheer pain, panting and muttering without making any sense. No matter how hard Derek tries, he’s unable to fully explore Stiles’ chest.

‘Stiles, can you hear me?’ Scott asks worriedly, as tears well in Lydia’s eyes and Malia leans startled back against Derek who supports her protectively. She’s at a loss, unable to figure out how much pain Stiles is going through.

Everyone’s still pretty dazed, eyes and ears still softly ringing from the blast and aching all over. They’re at a loss about what do to next, staring in shock at Stiles’ traumatized form. He’s very much awake, but lying to still now that Scott knows his mind retreated into himself, protecting him from the excruciating pain radiating from his chest.

‘Stiles, it’s us,’ Lydia says softly, cupping his face and then resting her hand on his left hand, rubbing it gently as she tries to soften the strain he’s under. ‘Nod if you can hear is.’

To their great relief, he nods immediately. Beads of cold sweat form on his face, his eyes open halfway as he fights against the excruciating pain paralyzing him. His legs are pushed together, almost in a fetus- like position. His back and shoulders are so tensed up Derek can see every muscle underneath his blue T-shirt. He’s sweating, as they are all.

Lydia almost wishes Stiles would just pass out. A large piece of metal lies besides him, having caused the impact to his chest. Derek notices the dent in his body through Stiles’ T-shirt where the object struck him. His mind tries to calculate the damage. Broken ribs, perhaps even broken sternum, lung problems and who knows what else.

 _Why the hell didn’t we listen to him?_ The wolf is upset this is happening. He’s pissed off, angry at himself and the pilot for deciding to take a look, despite Stiles’ wish not to do so.

‘Is he going to be okay?’ Malia asks frantically, placing her hand carefully in Stiles’ neck, caressing his hair. His eyes remain closed as he lies on his side, his chest shivering despite the sun’s heat.

‘Why isn’t he talking?’ she asks frantically.

‘Just let him focus on his breathing for now,’ Derek gently says, placing his hand on Stiles’ forearm, shocked at the radiating pain that escapes from his body. Then he finds Scott’s eyes, who is sensing the exact same thing. ‘He’s in pretty bad shape.’

‘We have to get him out of here quickly,’ Scott nods. ‘This heat isn’t helping much either.’

‘How? The pilot is dead.’

Derek nods at their pilot. A large shard of metal protrudes from the man’s chest, the car’s metal entering his body so fast and with such force he probably didn’t even know what hit him. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Scott wearily tries to figure out what to do as he realizes the consequences of this. None of them can fly that damned plane. They’re stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by hills and sand.

‘If we can’t get out of here, then we need to get help here fast,’ Lydia says, her eyes warning the rest this is serious. She feels death hang above them, waiting to strike hard.

‘How bad is it?’ Liam asks, feeling damned helpless at the sight of Stiles’ pale face.

‘From the looks of it, I think he might have broken a couple of ribs. Perhaps his sternum too but I’m thinking punctured lung,’ Scott replies calmly, realizing he has to keep himself restrained from shouting out loud. His hands gently examine Stiles’ chest, trying to find wounds, which he luckily doesn’t. Then they continue exploring the rest of his body, touching his legs and feet gently for further injuries.

‘No broken legs, ankles or feet. His shoulder seems to be hurting too, but I think it’s because of the lung. I’m not sure though. I’m not a doctor. Everything’s just a guess as it is.’

Lydia’s fingers gently lifts Stiles’ eyelids, finding two normal pupils staring back at her.

‘I don’t think he has a concussion and he seems quite alert,’ she says relieved. ‘Stiles, did you bump your head? Can you talk to us? Where does it hurt? Is it your shoulder or your chest?’

Stiles opens his eyes wide, staring up at his friends, shivering in pure pain, teeth clattering as he tries to speak. ‘N – n – no bump. C – c – chest … hurts.’

‘You broke a few ribs and I think your lung is punctured,’ Scott replies calmly and honestly, knowing Stiles would see through lies immediately. ‘We need to move you to the plane and get you out of the sun, Stiles.’

‘N – n – no, leave me. Hurts.’ Stiles takes deep breaths as he speaks. Derek doesn’t like the way he breathes. A crackling sound is clearly heard. ‘M-m-moving is dangerous. P-Punctured l-lung I think.’ His words shock them all. Stiles is trying to figure out himself what’s wrong with him, his mind already drawing conclusions of the seriousness of it.

‘I know, but we can’t leave you out here in the heat either,’ Derek says, firmly taking the lead as he sees the others are too shocked to know what do to next. They’re too close to Stiles, fearing anything they will do, might kill him.

‘You’ll dehydrate within the hour,’ Scott explains. ‘If a sunstroke doesn’t get you first. It’s too humid and hot out here. This valley is too hot for us to stay long in it, even for the final hours of daytime. Stiles, you know we have to move you.’

 _And tonight it will freeze out here,_ Scott thinks, remembering what their unfortunately pilot has said. Didn’t he mention wild animals as well? The alpha runs his hands through his air, cursing himself for not listening to Stiles’ pleads. If only they had known that death was on that plane with them. As he looks up, he finds Derek staring at him intently, thinking the exact same thing.

‘We need to move him,’ the older werewolf says quietly. ‘ _Now.’_

Before it’s too late.


	5. The Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for following, reviewing, kudos and very nice comments! As promised, an update per day :)

**Chapter 5: The Blanket**

Scott frantically runs his hands through his sweaty hair, realizing he feels helpless for the first time in ages. All of them, so strong when they fight their supernatural enemies, are totally frozen in their fear they might lose the only human in their group due to one stupid decision.

Staring at his best friend who pants quietly, Scott knows he won’t be able to fix this on his own. He watches Stiles quietly trying to force some of the pain out of his system, knowing that he won’t succeed in doing so. He retreated into a constant heaving, the only sound apart from the fire, that protrudes the humid skies.

Malia looks up as she sits behind Stiles, staring at the sun settling down over them, realizing it’s going to get dark in an hour at the latest. The skies seem to be bleeding, a heavy red painting the heavens. And still it remains so hot and humid she just wants to scream out her frustration. The car blew up less than ten minutes ago, but it feels like they’ve been here forever.

Stiles releases a bit of his tension, his right hand stretching out as he flexes his wrist and fingers. His eyes remain closed as he focuses on pushing out some of the pain. Gently, Lydia rubs his back and shoulder, telling Stiles he’s doing fine, while her eyes fixate on Malia. She knows her friend doesn’t know how to do deal with pain of others. Let alone the one person who means the most to her.

‘Just let him know you’re there,’ she whispers, her eyes then seeking out Scott for support. He’s their leader, he will figure out what to do. But Scott, feeling so horribly helpless, searches aid from Derek, not realizing the older wolf is barely able to constrain his anger frustrations as he watches Stiles suffer.

‘We are less than twenty flight minutes away from Palm Springs,’ Scott whispers to Derek. ‘I could make a run for it and head out there, get help. I’m fast, I can cross the desert in an hour or two at the most.’

‘How? And in what direction would you go? This whole damned place is a maze, Scott. You’d be running blind. We have no idea where we are and it’s dangerous out there. If you get lost, even as a werewolf, you can wonder around for days. You can still suffer from sunstroke throughout the days and die from dehydration. And let’s not forget the icy cold desert nights and the mountain lions roaming about. You’ll wind up as their food if they catch your scent. They’ll chase you in pack.’

‘Then what do I do? Stick around and watch him die?’ Scott nearly cries out.

‘No, you won’t and he’s not going to die,’ Derek sharply retorts. ‘Don’t even think in that direction. You stay here and take care of him. He’s better off with all of us here. Sooner or later someone will know we’re missing.’

‘Not before it might be too late,’ Liam blurts out. ‘Scott’s right, we can both run for it.’

‘No, we stick together,’ Derek says firmly. ‘I need both of you here. We need to drain the pain out of him for as long as we can, while we find a way to get help down here. We’ve got the plane and its radio. We need to get help here instead of going out there and search for it blindly.’

‘Can’t we carry him with us if we all go?’ Liam asks. ‘We can balance the weight between us. We can carry him, all of us are strong enough. Then we are still together, right?’

‘Too dangerous, any wrong move could kill him,’ Lydia immediately replies. ‘If his lung truly is punctured, we can’t move him for such a long time without the risk of losing him. And it’s going to get cold out here tonight. He’s already in shock, the risk of hypothermia is too great.’

‘Then what do we do?’ Malia asks, her voice so strained she can barely speak.

‘We got with Derek’s option. The most sensible thing to do is get him on board of that plane and radio in for help. And then we hope they’ll find us quickly.’

Taking the lead, the Banshee moves away from Stiles for a moment, focusing on her distraught friends. ‘Come on, guys, we’ve been through worse. Stiles needs us, we’re no use to him of we all start panicking now. We focus on him and we get him out of here alive. That is what we focus on, that is our goal. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Scott takes deep breaths, looking at Lydia. ‘Thank you.’

She smiles back weakly.

Scott returns to his leader’s position as he takes over from a very pale and shaking Lydia.

‘Liam, Malia, head back out to the plane and find out if you can get the radio to work. See if you can find blankets and medical equipment, anything that might help Stiles. We need to focus on what we have on the plane and use that to our benefit.’

Lydia feels extremely grateful for Scott’s curt and efficient reactions, having difficulty to concentrate as she fights the battle against her pounding ears and her fears for Stiles’ life. Malia leans over Stiles and kisses him gently.

‘I’ll be back,’ she whispers. Then she reluctantly crawls up and runs back to the plane with Liam, leaving him under Scott’s care.

Derek is kneeling down again, returning to his position behind Stiles in order to support him. The hurt human opens his eyes for a second, finding his gaze. Derek places his hand on Stiles’ wrist, taking away some of the pain, knowing it’s not by far good enough.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.

‘Selfish jerk,’ Stiles mutters, a sly smile on his face. ‘Planes, huh?’

‘Psychic idiot. The jeep, hey?’

‘W-Was nice to see y-you smile.’

Derek eyes him dangerously. After a second of debate, he grins. ‘If we make it out, I’ll pay for decent upholstery for that wreck of yours.’

‘N-Not brown.’

‘Black then?’

‘W-White is for pimps.’

‘Beige is pretty nice. Girl magnet.’

Stiles snorts at that, coughing immediately after.

‘Just shut up now and let us help you,’ Derek says gently, ending their teasing.

‘How are we going to move him?’ Scott asks troubled, ‘if we lift him up, we might hurt him more.’

‘I can carry him,’ Derek suggests. ‘He doesn’t weigh that much. He can stay in this position, if it helps him fight the pain. I’ll carry him into my arms.’

‘N-n-no,’ Stiles mumbles with closed eyes. ‘W-w-walk. You’re not picking me up.’

Derek frown as he listens to Stiles’ ragged breaths, knowing they might kill him just by moving him, but they don’t have a choice. He kneels down.

‘Stiles, you can’t walk.’

‘C-c-carry will kill,’ Stiles whispers.

Derek stands and pulls Scott away to a short distance while Lydia stays with Stiles. Making sure Stiles doesn’t hear them, the wolves discuss.

‘This is bad, Scott,’ Derek admits. ‘It’s really, really, really bad. Truth be told, I’m at a loss here. I don’t even know where to start fixing this. But I do know he needs help _now_ and we are not the people to give it to him. We need help from the outside _now_. He needs to be in a hospital.’

‘There isn’t any help,’ Scott retorts sharply. ‘There are no hospitals, in case you didn’t notice.’

‘Then we have to find one, or he dies, Scott.’

The alpha nods, staring at Stiles’ heaving and shaking body as his lungs tries to suck in air he can’t seem to hold on to. Lydia holds both of his hands now, still whispering to him. Her voice seems to have a relaxing effect on him. He listens to whatever she’s saying. Derek sighs deeply, straightening his back.

‘We’re going to lose him.’

Derek’s words work like a sharp knife piercing Scott’s abdomen. And suddenly, as he looks at the scene, he knows what to do.

‘Okay,’ Scott says, calm returning. ‘Okay. First things first. Let’s get him back on that plane, out of the sun, as discussed. We’ll carry him together, let him choose. We’ll get him into a good position there, which might help him breathe better. This humidity is not doing him any good either. He might be able to breathe better when he’s out of the heat.’

Derek nods.

‘Leave the pilot’s body here, there is nothing we can do for him anyhow. We’ll radio for help, if Liam and Malia can get it to work. If it doesn’t work, we’ll go with my plan and I’ll run out for help with Liam. The two of us might be able to find it quicker.’

Lydia looks up. ‘If we can get the radio to work, hopefully, we’ll find someone who can help us with first aid and instructions on what to do to keep him alive until they get her. And then we’ll try to keep Stiles as comfortable as we can while we wait for the cavalry. You guys take turns extracting the pain from him until they get here.’

Derek looks at the strawberry blonde. ‘That sounds like a plan.’

The two wolves return to Stiles who is now silently whimpering, his left hand still pushing against his own chest. Gently Scott lifts his eyelids. When he looks into his pupils, Scott notices how they have gotten a glace over them, as if he’s completely drugged on medication. He knows Stiles has a lot of self-control and is able to block out pain, but never before has he seen him do it like this. He’s in awe that the human is able to keep his cries of pain behind his gritted teeth.

‘Stiles?’ he says gently, knowing their voices are all they have to keep him with them. ‘We’re right here and we’re all going to help you. But you need to help us too, okay? We can carry you to the plane, or you can walk, but then you need to work with us. What do you want us to do?’

Stiles seems to focus on his voice and listens intently to him. ‘I can’t … move, Scott.’

‘Yes, you can, Stiles. Come on, you’re stronger than that. We need to get you out of the sun. Do you want us to carry you? Are you able to cope with that?’

Reluctantly Stiles nods, staring at the oldest werewolf with that same sly grin he keeps only for the oldest wolf, choosing him as the person to carry him. ‘W-w-watch where you put your h-h-hands.’

Derek snorts as he kneels down, while he and Scott gently place their arms behind Stiles’ back, slowly pulling him up. Stiles instantly cries out and retreats within himself, screaming as a new sharp pain slices through him. Instinctively he fights off Derek.

‘This isn’t going to work,’ Derek mutters as he lowers Stiles again, watching how he clutches his own chest. ‘I can’t carry him like this, not if it hurts him so badly.

At that moment Liam runs back down the hill, carrying a blanket he found on the plane.

‘Use this,’ he says out of breath, pushing the blanket into Derek’s arms. ‘It’ll keep him in the same position as we move him.’

‘Good thinking,’ Derek smiles, opening the thin but useful blanket on the sand. Gently, with one gesture, Scott and Derek lift Stiles with one swift haul and place him on top of it. With a loud and sharp cry that runs through their souls like a knife, Stiles moves onto his side again while Lydia supports him.

Derek places his hand on his wrist, sucking out some of the pain. Black tendrils move up his arms, making the wolf gasp at the force of them. Stiles’ left fingers move, until he grasps Derek’s tight, allowing the wolf to help him. Then he pulls himself free.

‘Enough,’ he croaks.

‘That’s it,’ Derek says gently, not listening to him. ‘You’re doing great, Stiles.’ He pulls out pain until it exhausts him. Stiles finally pulls free, going back to clutching the area of his broken ribs as he closes his eyes.

‘You’re doing great,’ Scott speaks soothingly. ‘That’s it, Stiles. We’ve got you. Now all you have to do, is relax and lets us carry you back to the plane, okay? You won’t pass out, I promise. We’re right here, all of us. You’re not alone.’

In other circumstances Stiles would have laughed at the patronizing tone of voice but right here, right now, he listens to Scott’s smooth talking, clinging onto the strength of his friends like a lifeline. Somehow, deep inside of his brain, he knows that this is the only reason why he’s still alive at this very moment. They’re keeping him whole.

Gently Derek and Scott lift up the blanket, allowing his body to rock gently on it, while Lydia holds his hand and Liam tries to release him of some of the pain while they move. Every single step the werewolves make cuts like a knife through his chest. Stiles can actually feel his broken ribs move and crunch against each other. It takes all he has in him to not just give up. He pants, out of breath and in pure pain, despite Liam’s attempts to help him.

After three long minutes they reach the bottom of the hill, literally standing before their biggest challenge yet. Stiles looks up briefly with tears of pain in his eyes, knowing the toughest part is yet to come. He’s exhausted by the rocking movement, fighting back the bile in his throat.

‘J – j – just leave me here,’ he whispers to Liam and Lydia, his face sliding forward against his chest, dark spots dancing before his eyes. ‘Y – you go and b-be safe.’

‘Not a chance,’ Lydia reacts firmly. ‘It’s not that high. You can do it, Stiles. Just close your eyes and think of yourself lingering in that big luxurious swimming pool.’

‘B-Beautiful g-girls in b-bikinis,’ he mutters.

She smiles at the compliment. ‘And gorgeous guys in speedos.’

Grasping his hand, she leans forward. ‘You can do it. Just hold onto me.’

Her voice shakes him out of his stupor. Head lifted high, chin up, Stiles holds on tight for the pain. Up they go, step by step, up the small sandy hill behind which they will find the plane. He listens to Scott’s and Derek’s breathing and the way they keep going forward, grasping the edges of the blanket tight so he won’t fall. In reality it takes only about fifteen steps up. To Stiles it feels and sounds like they are running a marathon from hell.

Constantly sinking in and out of darkness, he allows the voices of his friends to soothe him. They won’t let go, so neither will he. He owes them that much.


	6. The Radio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been receiving so much feedback about this story, it's amazing! Thank you all so very much!  
> As promised, i continue to post day by day.   
> Thank you for reading!

 

**Chapter Six: The Radio**

As they finally reach the top of the hill, holding the blanket with Stiles on it, Derek and Liam share a relieved glance between them. Stiles remains very quiet as he's being moved, fading in and out all the time.

'We're almost there, Stiles,' Scott says gently, refusing to lower him down for even a short break. 'Just a little bit more. Then you'll feel much better, being out of the sun and on the plane.

'H-h-hate planes,' Stiles mutters dryly. 'P-planes s-suck. G-Good seating t-though.'

Derek almost laughs out loud. 'Didn't know that, Stiles,' he retorts. 'Brand new info.'

The wolves feel relief that, despite it all, Stiles still holds onto his sarcasm. It's a sign he hasn't given up just yet.

Lydia stares at the blood red sky. She doesn't want to say it out loud, but already it's starting to cool down, alarming her instead of pleasing her. They don't know how cold the night will become yet. What if it gets so cold they won't be able to warm up the plane?

Stiles doesn't reply, his eyes focusing on the aircraft that seems to be miles away, but will only take another ten steps or so to reach. Slowly but surely they make it there. When their feet touch the concrete, they're relieved.

'Perhaps someone will pass us,' Liam speaks hopefully. 'Someone's bound to take this road at some point, right?'

'Only if you're crazy enough to drive here,' Derek mutters. 'Or if you know these parts. You know what our pilot said.'

'So basically we're screwed.' Liam's harsh words shocks Scott.

'No, we're not,' he replies sharply. 'We're not. Get your act together, Liam. Panicking won't help.'

'Sorry,' Liam replies numbly. 'It's just –'

'- hard, I know.' Scott smiles weakly. 'You're doing fine, Liam.'

'I feel helpless,' the youngest wolf retorts, unable to take his eyes off of Stiles. 'How the hell did this happen, Scott? How did we wind up from going on a weekend trip to this situation?'

The question lingers between them all, without a single soul able to answer it. Malia jumps out of the plane, eager to see Stiles again, relieved that he's still breathing.

'He's doing relatively fine under the circumstances,' Lydia reassures her. 'Did you manage to get the radio working?'

'Oh yeah,' Malia replies, her eyes focusing on Stiles as she touches him, shocked by the pain that radiates through his form. He looks up at her weakly, his eyes smiling reassuringly at her, despite the hurt he's in.

'A – Are you okay?' he asks her, momentarily losing the grip on his own chest to touch her face.

Tears fill her eyes. 'You're the one hurt, not me.'

'I'm okay,' he manages to blurt out. 'J-Just a minor b-bump down the road. Y-You k-know. Nothing t-tape can't f-fix.'

The group stares at him as if he's gone crazy. Then Derek snorts. 'You know, Stiles, I actually do believe you would be able to patch yourself up with the same duct tape you use for your jeep. Come on, let's get you inside. You weigh pretty heavy for a lightweight.'

'I – g – gained m – muscle. Go figure,' Stiles retorts through clenched teeth, closing his eyes when they reach the small iron ladder leading up to the plane's belly. Instantly Lydia is by his side, shaking him troubled. Only when he reacts immediately, she exhales again.

With Derek moving on the plane first and Scott and Liam carrying most of the weight, they pull Stiles, blanket and all, up on the small ladder, trying to keep him elevated and in a straight line as much as they can. Malia and Liam move below the blanket, pushing Stiles' weight up as they all help to carry him inside.

Inside it feels much cooler than out, getting everyone to sigh happily for one brief moment. But Lydia eyes Scott troubled, knowing the cold will definitely get the better of them at one point. She's troubled about the upcoming evening and what it will bring.

The group carefully lift Stiles inside the plane's belly, still holding him up in the small aisle, above the expensive chairs nobody longer cares about. The plan smells of salty peanuts. Scott eyes the bag he ate earlier, wondering how in the hell this already felt such a long time ago, while in truth it was less than half an hour.

'We won't be able to lie you down on the aisle, Stiles, the plane is too small for that,' Scott explains as they hold him. 'We'll move you to one of the seats, okay? We'll need to lower you now for a moment so you can stand and then sit. Can you do that for us?'

Stiles doesn't reply, nodding briefly.

Lydia walks towards the back of the plane and reclines one of the passenger seats as much as she can, making it fold back like a lounge chair. Gently Scott and Derek lift Stiles so that he slides gently out of the blanket as he grips his chest tight, until his feet touch the ground. Before he has to support on his full weight, Malia and Liam grab him on both sides, holding him between them while Scott removes the blanket from his back and throws it on one of the seats.

Malia's hand rests on the small of his back. He can scent her summer perfume. He always hated that smell, even though he'd never tell her. He leans gently into her, his head briefly leaning against her shoulder.

The five of them help sit Stiles down on the reclined chair, gently moving him at his own pace. He cries out again in pure agony, this time unable to hold back on his pain as he tries to find a position to lie down in.

Stiles soon finds that he can't lie down much at all. Sitting partially upright on his side, curling his legs up, somehow helps relief some the pain off his chest. The broken ribs push inside of him, making it harder to breathe. He is panting heavily now, almost gasping for air. It's clear to them all his lung is definitely punctured.

Scott has never seen his best friend so pale and sick, not even in his worst hours. Closing his eyes once more, Lydia goes in search for a bottle of water and a cloth to dab his cold-sweated forehead with. Malia and Liam, both young in their own ways, are at a loss.

'The radio is still working,' Malia says frantically, moving horrified to the front of the plane where Scott and Derek are. 'But I don't know what I'm doing. I've been pushing all these buttons and I can't get anyone to listen and – I feel so stupid!'

'Malia. _Malia_!' Derek grasps her tight as she crumbles, tears flowing down her face. 'Calm down, I'll do it. You are not stupid, you are upset. He'll be fine, Malia. Go talk to him, get him to listen to you. He needs you, he needs you to stay alert.'

'I'm useless. I don't know how to deal with pain,' Malia cries, finally breaking down as Scott moves in and holds her tight.

'No, you're not. You are doing so well, Malia,' Scott replies gently. 'Derek and I will deal with the outside world now, why don't you go back and sit with him?'

She nods, wiping her face as she pushes past Derek to go to Stiles. Derek closes the cockpit door behind her, closing Scott in with him in the small compartment.

Lydia, Malia and Liam stay in the back with Stiles, each picking a seat near to him. He feels their presence clearly as they take their spots, focusing on them as a relief for his physical pain.

'M-Malia,' Stiles whispers, his left hand for the first time since they're on the plane releasing his chest and grabbing hers. He seeks her out as he opens his feverish eyes, eyeing her intently. He knows exactly what she's going through.

'I'm here, Stiles,' she speaks warmly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. 'We're all here.'

Lydia nods at Malia, smiling gently to support her. She sits down on the seat facing Stiles, knowing he's not safe yet. She feels his death lurking around the corner and it frightens her to no extent. Liam is sitting next to Lydia, silently trying to withdraw more pain from Stiles, frowning as he gets a sense of what their friend is going through. It hurts him to the very core. He feels helpless, remembering what it was like a long time ago to be human.

And all they need to do, is give Stiles the bite. When push comes to shove, that's what could save and heal him. But he doesn't want it, they all know that. And right now, the chances he would survive it, are getting pretty slim.

'You'll be fine,' Malia continues, gently speaking to her boyfriend while Lydia listens and dabs the cloth on Stiles' forehead again. Surrounded by the two girls he loves the most, Stiles focuses on them, his eyes still open in the process. Lydia can actually see the pain in his pupils. The red skies shine an eerie light inside.

'Derek and Scott are radioing for help,' Lydia says firmly. 'They'll find us soon and you're going to be okay, Stiles. Just hang on. Get some rest, but stay awake, okay? We need you to stay alert. You can't go to sleep now, not like this.'

'It hurts,' Stiles mutters, his eyes still fixed upon hers.

'I know. Liam is trying to find a first aid kit on board with some pain medication on board. You just rest for a moment, okay?' Malia smiles, her hand moving towards his warm forehead. 'Don't worry about anything.'

Stiles suddenly smiles a weary grin. 'W – wish w – we had t – taken the car today, huh? My c-c-cr-cooked jeep would n-not have b-broken d-down. B-but technically, we didn't crash, did we?'

Malia couldn't help but smile back. 'I wish we had a _DeLorean_ right now.'

Stiles' eyes stare at her. 'Y-you w-watched _B-Back to the F-Future_? For me?'

'Yep,' she admits with a smile. 'And guess what's next?'

'N-No,' he smiles wearily. 'N-Not _G-Ghostbusters_?'

'Oh yeah.' She kisses the top of his hand. 'I kind of like these geeky eighties movies you are so in love with. I'll smuggle it into your hospital room after we get you patched up and munch on popcorn.'

'M-My girl,' Stiles whispers, closing his eyes as he retreats into himself once more without passing out.

Malia sighs heavily and looks up at Lydia, whose arms are suddenly around her, hugging her fiercely. 'We won't lose him,' Lydia whispers in her ear. 'You're doing so well, Malia. You're holding on, both of you are. You're not alone, you know?'

'I know,' Malia says, her dark eyes smiling despite the situation they're in. 'I know now what it's like not to be alone.'

'Hold onto that thought all the time,' Lydia smiles, extending her hand to her friend.

'I miss Kira.'

'I miss her too.'

'Do you think she'll sense we're in trouble?'

'Who knows,' Lydia whispers. 'But even then, she won't be able to do much about it.'

Stiles grunts, startling them both. His hoarse voice is barely audible as his lips move.

'What's he saying?' Lydia asks, straining her already damaged hearing.

'Just some rambling, I think,' Malia replies. 'I think he's talking to himself.'

'It almost sounds like humming.' Lydia moves forward, listening intently. 'Oh my god, he's humming a _lady Gaga-_ song.'

'Oh yeah,' Malia laughs. 'He's crazy about her, didn't you know?'

Lydia stares at her best friend in shock. 'You're serious.'

'Yep.'

Stiles opens his eyes, eyeing Lydia. 'You are t-too,' he grunts wryly. 'In s-secret.'

Lydia turns a scarlet red as Liam and Malia grin at her.

'Yep, he's got you all figured out,' Malia replies laughingly, knowing all too well about the strong bond Stiles has with Lydia. She's not jealous, never was. For some reason, it works between them all. Their friendship, their relationships, their love for each other. It's perfect as it is.

Stiles finally falls into a semi-sleep, releasing Lydia's hand.

The strawberry blonde wipes past her tired eyes as she watches Liam grasp Stiles wrist again, trying to help as much as he can, but feeling just as helpless as they all do. He looks fourteen instead of sixteen, his blue eyes clouding over as he doesn't say a single word to Stiles, unable to express his emotions.

Lydia remembers how young the kid still is, how he became involved so unexpectedly. She knows he sees Stiles as the odd one out, the one who doesn't want to be strong and self-healing. But in a way, he also understands. He knows that Stiles doesn't want to hurt his dad, doesn't feel like he should become supernatural. He wants to remain who he is, because it somehow suits him.

Stiles mumbles to himself once more as Lydia moves to the front of the plane, enters the cockpit and listens to Scott and Derek talking to a male voice on the other end. She quickly closes the door at Scott's silent request, his eyes telling her of the problems they're in.

'Hang on,' Derek says into the microphone as he turns towards Lydia. 'You're not going to like this. Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?'

Lydia feels cold fear grasp her. 'What is it?'

'We're literally in the middle of the dessert with nothing to go on but these plane's instruments to coordinate our whereabouts,' Scott explains. 'But they're malfunctioning, just like we feared. Apparently our pilot was flying blindly and on pure luck, flight experience and area orientation when he was heading for Palm Springs. He knew these parts pretty well, but the instruments are by ten miles off. At least. Could be less, but is mostly a lot more. Which will cost them a lot of time to get here. We can't even begin to explain where we are.'

'Crap. So he wasn't messing about when he said that,' Lydia says tiredly. 'Oh god, just what we need.'

'And that's not all,' Derek sighs, rubbing his forehead. 'There is barely any fuel left. He had enough to fly us to Palm Springs and that's about it. This guy really liked taking risks. The more we use the radio, air conditioning, lights, whatever, the sooner we will run out of it. We have to be careful what to use if we want to outlast long enough for them to find us. It's going to be dark and cold out there soon and without fuel, we don't have cabin heating. And it's not like we have a lot of blankets in this goddamned thing.'

'They can track us by our last coordinates, and then calculate the coordinates based on that, within a twenty mile radius to cover the whole area, can't they?' Lydia asks, her brilliant mind trying to count the odds. She knows it's pretty bad.

'Yeah, but that will still cost them a huge amount of time to get to us,' Scott says. 'Time Stiles might not have.'

Lydia sighs, as she adds the bad news to the long list of problems they already have.

'Anyhow,' Scott continues, 'there are three options right now. Either they fly out a small plane or a rescue helicopter out here to get Stiles to a hospital at once, leaving the plane here for someone – anyone – to pick it up later, refueling it manually before takeoff. That part, I don't care about, to be honest.'

'Or,' Derek continues, 'they could come by road and take us back by road as well.'

'If they fly him out, they will have to fly low, or he could die,' Lydia immediately says. 'The pressure might collapse his lung completely. A rescue helicopter would be best, they can fly it quite low. What are they proposing?'

'They are looking into the options right now,' Derek says, 'but both options have their issues and both have the same timing constraint. They will not be able to get us out of here before nightfall, so they're literally flying blind as it is.'

'In less than an hour it's going to be pitch black out here,' Scott sighs. 'Even if we turn on every light on this plane to navigate a helicopter towards us – which would probably have us run out of fuel immediately, by the way - they will not be able to land in the dark without clear sight.'

'And to fly Stiles out without further damage, they would need a special medic helicopter, which they are also trying to free up right now, out of Palm Springs,' Derek explains. 'If they drive out here, it will take them about three hours to get here and two to three hours to drive back to Palm Springs. And because they don't have our exact location, they could be driving around for hours before finding us anyhow. It's literally searching for a needle in a haystack right now.'

'So basically there is nothing we can do until morning?' Lydia asks horrified.

Derek nods. Scott sighed, rubbing his face, eying the other wolf. 'Stiles doesn't have until morning, Derek. He might not even have a few hours. He's in really bad shape. He won't make it.'

'I know,' Derek confirms quietly.

'So what do we do? I refuse to sit around and wait for him to do,' Lydia replies sharply. 'I won't let that happen. We have to figure something out.'

'Stiles is usually the one figuring it out,' Scott speaks quietly.

'Yeah, well right now he's counting on us to do that for him. Give me the headset,' Lydia orders.

Quietly Derek hands over the headset to her, watching her as her trembling fingers push it over her ears, adjusting the microphone to her mouth. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, remembering all the times Stiles was there for her. She won't let him die like this, whatever it takes.

'My name is Lydia Martin,' she says, once she's ready to talk. 'Stiles is the Beacon County Sheriff's son. Please contact him and ask him to help you out. He can pull some strings to get more people up and about to find us. His son is very badly injured and will die here tonight if you don't act quickly. We don't have until morning.'

A kind male voice on the other side replies immediately.

'Ms. Martin, your friends have explained the entire situation to us and we are doing everything we can to get help to you, I promise. We are doing all we can. I'm calling in everyone who is available and summoning volunteers out of Palm Springs who know the desert.'

'Thank you,' Lydia replies. 'How soon do you think you can get here?'

'That, we don't know, I have to tell you honestly,' the voice immediately replies. 'My suggestion is that we have a rescue helicopter ready for lift off from Palm Springs as soon as you are located by car. And the best way to do that is to send out as many vehicles as we can, scanning the entire area, starting from your last location and calculating a large error percentage out of that. But you have to keep in mind that it will take many hours to find you, if not, all night. We have to be realistic, I'm afraid. These desert roads are hardly ever used. The best you can do is to describe the exact are you're in, anything that stood out on your flight to Palm Springs, anything you might have noticed. Our best people are on it, I promise. I'll contact sheriff Stilinski immediately too.'

Lydia sighs exhausted. 'What is there to describe? There is nothing but desert around us and a long, lonely road without a single sign on it. The pilot said there were a couple of those around these parts, I'm not even sure where this one leads to.'

'I know,' the man on the other end sooths, 'but anything might help.'

'He mentioned a name earlier, Black Rock Desert?'

'Yes, that part we already know. Were there any strange mountains or hills that you noticed? Strange shapes or rock formations?'

'No, just valleys and desert sand.' Lydia rubs her forehead, trying to push away the throbbing pain she's been feeling since the blast. 'That road is pretty long, isn't it? And the area huge?'

'I'm afraid so. It's a deserted area, you won't travel there until you need to be there for some reason. In your case, you flew over it at a very low altitude and your pilot didn't transmit his coordinates as he landed, so it's a blind spot. We will help you, Lydia, as fast as we can.'

'Thank you,' Lydia sighs, grateful they're not alone out here. Then she takes a deep breath, her voice betraying her concern. 'Could you please get sheriff Stilinski to contact us too somehow? I think he needs to speak to his son. I think it's really important.'

Scott holds his breath as he stares at her, realizing what she just implied, but she doesn't say anything more.

'Of course,' the man replies. 'My colleagues are getting in touch with him as we speak.'

'What is your name?' Lydia asks.

'My name is Michael White. Please call me Mike. I'll be here for you all night,' the friendly voice reassures her. 'You're not alone out there, Lydia. We're all rooting for you and we're searching for you. You just hang in there.'

'Thank you,' Lydia says, her eyes focused on Scott as she pushes away her tears. 'Mike, I need another favor from you. I need to help Stiles as much as I can. He needs medical attention and we need someone to guide us so we can keep him alive. Can you do that? Can you get someone on the line who can help me save him?'

'I'm already on that too. I've called a hospital and they are sending over two people to help guide you through what you can do to help your friend. Even though we can't see Stiles, they will be able to assist based on your findings and descriptions.'

Lydia smiles. 'You are wonderful, thank you.'

A loud, sharp groan from the back of the plane startles them all. The cry is so loud, it cuts through their cores, shocking them as they realize Stiles can't hold back his pain any longer and is now losing complete control.


	7. The Puncture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19/03/16.
> 
> I debated today whether to continue posting or taking a short break after hearing about Dylan O'Brien's accident on the set of The Death Cure. So after discussing with a few friends, we decided to go on.
> 
> I focus my stories on Stiles-hurt and Stiles-whump, simply because I love bromance, friendship, hurt and comfort revolving around my favorite character, as h/c and angst often brings out the best in people. Since Stiles is one of the best characters ever portrayed in TV-shows, a beautifully complex imperfect person who happens to be part of a wonderful pack, this character is my focus for my stories.
> 
> And that's exactly what he is: A character, portrayed by a fantastic actor and a wonderful person who now suffered a real-life accident. Which, unfortunately happens. I'm really happy to hear that he's going to be just fine and that he'll be back to his old self again soon.
> 
> So, before continuing this story, I'd like to wish Dylan a very speedy recovery (Tweeted that, just like zillions of other fans) and hope that he won't go through what I'm putting poor Stiles through in this or other stories, as this would basically really suck if it happened to a real person.
> 
> With that being said, chapter 7 out of 19 chapters is ready to be read!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, as always I really, truly and happily appreciate your feedback. For which I also thank you so wholeheartedly! I have been receiving such fantastic comments on this story it brings tears to my eyes.
> 
> Have a nice, safe Saturday!

 

**Chapter 7: The Puncture**

Lydia takes off her headset and practically throws it at Scott, rushing back to the back of the plane with Derek right behind her, where she finds a ghastly pale Stiles literally gasping for air. Liam returns to the front of the plane, taking over the headset as Scott too rushes to the back of the plane. The youngest of the wolves explains to Mike what is going on as his sharp ears take in every single word and sound.

'Stiles, Stiles … I'm here, listen to me.' Lydia grasps her friend's hand tight, forcing him to look at her. Malia helplessly looks at her wounded boyfriend, tongue-tied.

'Help is on the way, you need to calm down. We're all here, remember? Malia, Scott, Derek and Liam too, we're going to get you to a hospital, okay?' Lydia's soft but firm voice is unable to get through to Stiles.

When he looks at her, she notices how confused he is. Beads of sweat cover his face. He has bitten on his own lip, a tiny wound appearing where his teeth went through his own skin. Stiles barely recognizes her as he struggles with the pain taking over every single thought inside his head.

 _If only he would pass out,_ Lydia thinks for a second, only to realize then that that might actually be the worst thing that could happen to him right now. He might never wake up again.

'Help me, Lydia,' he simply says, casting his eyes up at her, searching her out as his aid.

'I will,' she vows. 'We all will.'

Liam rushes towards the back of the plane. 'I have some instructions,' he exclaims. 'Apparently planes like these carry a standard, obligatory First Aid kit that holds medication, needles, syringes, some meds … It should be in the back of the plane, in the storage unit somewhere. That's why I couldn't find it first.'

Scott watches as Derek hurries to the back and rummages with Liam through the unit, searching for the kit until they pull it out of a box. The kit consists of two large black cases that both hold a large stock of medical supplies. Derek hands the box over to Lydia before he walks back to the front and pushes the intercom button, removing the headset so they can all hear.

'Mike, we're here,' he says aloud, 'Talk to us.'

'Okay, I'm patching you through to Dr. Wills. He will guide you through this,' Mike's voice resounds through the plane's belly.

Another voice is heard on the intercom, an older male voice that somehow reassures them all that they can work together to save Stiles.

'Okay, Derek,' the doctor says. 'The first thing we need to do is examine Stiles and determine the extent of his injury. Can you make him as comfortable as possible? Don't let him lie down completely just yet. Leave him in an upwards position, that will help him to breathe better.'

'Okay. Just tell us what to do, doc,' Derek says, carefully cutting open Stiles' T-shirt.

He nods at Lydia, who gently touches his chest, while Scott extracts some of his pain through his left hand, gasping at the extent of it. Stiles allows them to explore the hurt area, focusing his eyes on Malia and Derek kneeling before him.

'Take a good look at his chest, is it swollen?'

'Yes,' Lydia says, placing a hand on Stiles' chest. 'It's swollen and warm to the touch.'

'How warm?'

'He is definitely running a pretty high fever.'

Stiles stares at the wolf, allowing Derek to grasp his left hand so his chest is visible to Lydia.

'The entire right side is swollen,' Lydia further explains, 'it's difficult for him to breathe. I can hear a rattling sound when he inhales air. He's in obvious excruciating pain. I'm pretty sure the lung is punctured, as we feared.'

Stiles leans back, allowing the exam to continue as he focuses on his breathing, staring in front of him.

'Okay. I need you to do something that will cause a lot of pain to Stiles, but it's necessary. He needs to be moved onto his right side. That way, his body will counteract against the broken ribs and allow his punctured lung to expand. To do this, you need to lower his chair or place him on the ground. Is that possible?'

Scott looks into the smaller back compartment of the aircraft. 'The chair can't be moved further backwards, but if we move our bags and the pilot's boxes, we might be able to free up some space and lay him down.'

'There are more blankets in the back,' Liam says, moving towards the back as he starts making room for Stiles. 'We can use them as a mattress to lay him on.'

'Okay. When you lay him down, make sure that he doesn't topple forward, or he might damage his lung further. Be prepared though, it will hurt like hell,' Dr. Wills speaks through the intercom.

'T – t – that's re – reassuring to know,' Stiles grins through gritted teeth.

'Stiles, you will feel much better afterwards,' Dr. Wills reassures him.

Derek and Scott carefully work together as they lift Stiles from his chair. Slowly they make their way to the back of the plane, Stiles' legs gliding from under him as they carry his weight.

'Easy Stiles,' Derek speaks calmly. 'Just lean on me. We're going to lower you down on the ground now, one step at a time.'

The wolf focuses on extracting as much pain as he can, as they proceed, knowing it will not be enough. He's troubled that Stiles doesn't make jokes anymore.

With Derek and Scott holding him tight, Stiles allows his knees to bend and to be seated onto the ground. Scott stays before him, forcing Stiles to focus on him, while Derek sits behind him. His hands won't leave his left arm, holding him in place as Derek does the hard work.

'Now the difficult part,' Derek says. 'Stiles, are you ready?'

Stiles nods shortly and feels Derek pull back gently on his upper body, laying him down on the ground, at the same time swiftly turning him onto his right. Stiles screams in pain, for one long moment feeling he will die right there, begging for someone to knock him out. But it's exactly that pain that keeps him alert, to vividly experience every single movement he has to go through.

And then he's lying down on his side and somehow is able to breathe better, even if that is relatively speaking.

'Done,' Derek sighs in relief, rubbing the sweat of his forehead as he looks at Scott who gratefully nods. Lydia and Malia sink down on their knees by Stiles. He has instinctively gone back to clutching his chest, half out of it as he recuperates slowly from the ordeal.

'It's better now, right?' Malia asks troubled.

'Not yet,' Dr. Wills speaks through the speaker. 'That was the easy part. Now follows the tricky one.'

Scott startles. 'What do you mean?'

'The next step is to get Stiles to regain full use of his lung. For that, you will have to insert a needle into his chest and allow the lung to expand. Otherwise this was all for nothing,' the doctor explains.

'Are you kidding me?' Scott almost shouts. 'We are not doctors, _doctor_. I hope you're joking?'

Dr. Wills scrapes his throat. 'I'm afraid not. Stiles' lung needs to be saved. In the kit that you have retrieved from the back of the plane, you will find several long needles. Retrieve the middle sized one, get bandages, a tube, antiseptics and tape from the kit. There are some gloves too and antiseptics. It should all be there.'

Derek and Scott stare at each other, both frightened of what is expected of them. Lydia gasps as Stiles' hand grasps hers. She looks down at Stiles whose feverish eyes stare at her intently, grabbing her attention.'

'Y –– yes, you can,' he quips. 'L – Lydia, pl – please. Y-you are the s-smart one. You know how this w-works. N-national G-Geographic, and all. I k – know you read t-those thick medical b-books. Can't h-hide them from m-me.'

Lydia instinctively reaches for her necklace, wrapping her hands around the pendant as she closes her eyes for a brief moment. As she looks up, she finds all the others watching her, expecting her to resolve this. They know she can do it. She's probably the only one.

'Y-you b-brought me b-back o-once, you were inside m-my head. T-this is p-peanuts,' Stiles whispers. 'It w-won't be that bad. Good thing it was m-me and n-not you. I p-pass out at the sight of blood, remember?'

'Stiles, I can't do this,' she gently whispers.

'You c-can, you will, or I die.' Stiles' voice fades, but not before he reminds her of what is at stake. Lydia looks up to find Malia pleading with her silently. She knows she has to do this. There's no one else. She knows none of them can do this and Stiles is aware of this too.

'Lydia –' Scott starts, but she raises her hands.

'Okay,' Lydia says, taking deep breaths. 'I can do this. _We_ can do this. Derek, Scott, get everything ready. I need your help. Can you guys do that for me?'

Derek smiles briefly and starts rummaging through the First Aid kit, helped by Liam. Scott and Malia follow Lydia's orders as she points out what they need to do.

They lay a clean blanket next to Stiles and spread out the medical material on top of it.

'I found everything except the gloves,' Derek says. 'We'll have to be careful, we can't wash our hands anywhere.'

Lydia nods, then gets up and rummages through her luggage, retrieving a hand cleanser which she rubs over both hands. She hands the bottle to Scott who does the same.

'I'm ready,' she then says.

'Okay, now listen to me very carefully,' Wills speaks through the speaker. 'Place your hand on Stiles' chest and roam over it until you find the lower part of the swelling. That should be about three fingertips away from the sternum.'

Lydia closes her eyes as her hand gently scans Stiles' chest, doing exactly what he says while the others follow her every move. 'Found it.'

'Okay, disinfect it with antiseptics. Use pads.'

Scott cleans the area on Stiles' chest, watching his best friend stare back at him.

'Done,' Scott says, while Malia's hand gently strokes Stiles' feverish forehead. Stiles' eyes are open, watching Lydia's and Scott's every move. Derek returns to taking some of the pain away at Stiles' shoulder, while Liam holds his ankle, doing the same.

'Now take the needle out of its package and make sure not to touch the sharp end. It needs to stay clean. Keep the tube ready.'

Scott pulls the tube out of its package and readies it for Lydia to use. She's holding the needle in her hand, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She knows she can kill Stiles too, but somehow Dr. Wills seems to believe she won't. Neither do her friends, neither does Stiles.

He smiles gently at her. 'Doctor M – Martin,' he quips. 'Has a n-nice ring to it.'

'Shut up, Stiles,' she replies, but her lips are turned upwards in a smile.

'Now, push the needle into Stiles' chest,' Dr. Wills orders. 'You will feel it go through the hard part and then into a softer area that feels like a cushion. That's his lung tissue you'll be feeling. You'll hear a sound like air escaping. That's the sign it's working and you've pressed the right spot. Then you need to push the tube into place and keep it there, tape it onto his chest so it holds.'

Lydia stares at Scott as she listens to the doctor's orders. 'Is he freaking kidding me?' she mouths.

Scott almost laughs. 'No, he's not.'

'You'll need to administer pain medication once you're done. Can you check in the kit if there are sedatives present you can inject?'

'None,' Malia replies, 'I already checked. There are just some pills. I'm not sure he can swallow anything right now.'

'D-d-don't n-need it,' Stiles mutters. He looks begging at Derek.

'Stiles, this will hurt like hell,' Dr. Wills warns. 'You most likely won't be able to cope with the pain.'

'Just … just do it,' Stiles mutters through clenched teeth.

Scott looks at Stiles. 'Are you sure?'

Stiles nods. Then he sighs deeply, his voice hoarse and filled with pain. 'No, I'm not. Just do it. W – Whatever it t – takes.'

Lydia forces back the tears in her eyes, forcing herself to relax as she looks at him. She can do this, she knows that. She has to.


	8. The Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such amazing comments, I am truly in awe of you all!

**Chapter 8: The Fever**

It's quiet in the plane, except for the elaborate breathing of their patient and the voice of the doctor trying to save him.

'Stiles,' doctor Wills speaks, addressing him directly. 'You will feel a sharp pain. As soon as the needle and tube are in, you will be able to breathe better again. Try to stay awake, but if you feel like you're going to pass out, that's okay. Your body will decide for you.'

Stiles nods.

'He says it's fine,' Scott speaks out loud.

'Good. Lydia, he's all yours.'

Lydia's fingers tremble as she holds the syringe tight, focusing on Stiles' chest without looking at his face. 'You ready?'

Stiles nods again.

'Okay, here goes.'

Slowly but surely Lydia pushes the needle into Stiles' chest. The teenager groans and instinctively tries to fight her off, but he's stopped by Derek and Liam's firm grips as they hold him tight, clearing the area for Lydia.

'No,' Stiles cries out. 'Don't.'

'I'm sorry,' Lydia says, refusing to stare at him. She proceeds, focusing on her job instead of the person.

As the needle sinks further into his skin, flesh and then lung tissue, Stiles' eyelids flutter and close, and his entire body relaxes, finally sinking into welcoming darkness.

Quickly Lydia continues, prodding until she hears the telltale sound of escaping air. Then she releases the needle, pulling it out swiftly and pushing the tiny tube in place, taping it in between sterile pads onto Stiles' chest with Scott's help so it won't slide out. Instantly they hear a difference in Stiles' breathing, even when he's passed out.

'It's working,' Derek reacts, happily surprised at Lydia's work. 'You did it. You actually did it!'

Relieved the group leans back, watching Stiles' still form quietly move, his chest reacting positively to the tube. Malia gently touches Stiles' cheek, patting him to wake him up. But he doesn't react, sending her into a state of panic.

'Stiles … Stiles!' she cries out, trying to shake his exhausted, unconscious body. 'Why isn't he waking up? What's wrong?'

'Malia, he's fine. He just needs some rest now,' Scott says gently, placing a blanket over Stiles' legs and chest, covering him up. The plane's belly is increasingly getting colder, even with the door closed. In a few hours, they'll be freezing out here.

'How is our patient doing?' Dr. Wills asks with tense voice.

'He passed out,' Lydia replies. 'But the tube is in place and he's breathing less shallow.'

Relieved sighs and voices return from the other side of the intercom. Several people have now gathered to follow the events.

'Good, that's very good,' the doctor continues, 'but we're not out of the woods yet, so to speak. Do you have a thermometer in the kit? Can you check his fever?'

'No thermometer,' Derek replies, 'but he's burning up. We couldn't find syringes with medication or anything like that. The kit was only half full.'

'There needs to be more, the kit should have carried much more medical supplies.'

'I'll go check,' Liam says, going to the back of the plane to rummage through the equipment and boxes.

'His fever concerns me,' Lydia admits. 'I think he might have seizures if we don't get it down.'

'Agreed,' Dr. Wills replies. 'Okay, you need to get those fevers down. Is there a source of water in the area?'

'Not that we know of,' Scott replies. 'We don't think so.'

'I have half a bottle of water left,' Lydia says, pointing at the bottle she used earlier.

'Is there a way of cooling him down?'

Scott desperately looks around for something – anything – to help.

'No,' he says. 'I don't know. Just the water.'

'Keep him cool, try to apply some cold cloths on his face and chest, it will help. Don't cover him too much with blankets.'

'It's getting cold in the plane,' Lydia retorts, 'we can't risk hypothermia.'

'That won't happen,' Dr. Wills reassures them. 'If you dress him lightly, just enough not to catch a cold, he'll be fine. But the fever's troubling me more at the moment.'

'Got it,' Liam cries out, returning with a third box filled with medical supplies.

'There is a saline drip in the kit,' Lydia says excitedly. 'I could try to get that in. Perhaps it might help. It will definitely help keep Stiles' strengths up, right?'

'Have you ever done inserted a needle in a vein before?' Dr. Wills asks.

'No, but I've never punctured a man's lung before either,' Lydia says. 'I've had my fair shares of hospital visits. It can't be that difficult, right?'

Dr. Wills laughs nervously. 'If you are up for trying, be my guest. I'll guide you through it. Make sure you get a good vein, either in the crook of his elbow or his hand. Do you know how to search for one?'

'Dr. Google and Grey's Anatomy,' Lydia retorts, a wry smile on her face as the others stare at her as if she's gone mad.

'What?' she replies, shrugging slightly, 'I love watching medical shows.'

'More secrets come to surface,' Malia grins.

'Well, these secrets might just about save Stiles' life,' Derek retorts, his eyes fixed on Lydia. 'So we won't hold it against you later on.'

The strawberry blonde intelligent girl sticks out her tongue before returning to the very serious here and now. Scott leans back as he watched Lydia gently tap Stiles' hand, knowing Stiles is in good hands with Lydia.

'He's got big veins on his hands,' she says. 'I should be able to get a needle in there. He's passed out, so if I have to try a couple of times, at least he won't feel it.'

Dr. Wills laughs. 'Good bedside manners, Lydia.'

'Sleeping patients can't complain, right?' she retorts.

Lydia quickly follows the doctor's instructions as he guides her through the process, preparing the drip, while the others follow her moves. Then, as she pushes the needle in from the first attempt, they all stare at her in awe.

'That was amazing,' Malia whispers. 'I adore you, I swear.'

Lydia looks up smilingly happily while Scott tapes the needle into place.

'I'm still debating to become a medical doctor,' she confesses. 'That, or a scientist. Or a mathematician.'

'You can come work for me at any time, Dr. Wils chants through the speakers. 'But I think you'll wind up in some fancy university hospital by the sound of it.'

Lydia just shrugs, her eyes focusing on Stiles' unconscious form.

'Only if the patients aren't friends,' she whispers, feeling the weight of what she just did on her shoulders. She trembles all of a sudden, realizing what just took place. Her hands cramp, her fingers become stiff and useless.

'Oh god,' she mutters, leaning back against the seat as she stares shocked at Stiles, taking in the tube in his chest and the IV she just put in.

'You're okay,' Scott quickly says, grabbing her tight. 'You saved him, Lydia.'

She looks up, tears filling her eyes. 'I could have killed him.'

'But you didn't.' Scott sits her down, grabbing her cold hands. 'You're in pain,' he says startled.

Lydia shakes her head. 'Just my head, ears. It was the blast.'

Derek places a blanket over her, reclining the seat a little. 'Why don't you get some rest now? We'll take care of Stiles and keep an eye on him.'

Lydia nods, grasping Malia's hand as she closes her eyes.

'Just a minute or so,' she mutters, before she falls asleep.

Scott moves back to the cockpit and plugs in the headset as he shuts the compartment door.

'Is Lydia alright?' Dr. Wills asks.

'I'm not sure,' Scott admits. 'She's moving on adrenaline right now, but I think she's hurt too, even though she won't say it out loud. We'll keep an eye on her.'

'Her head? Ears?'

'Yeah, I think so.'

'Make sure she doesn't sleep too deep, she might have a slight concussion.'

Troubled Scott sighs deeply. 'Will Stiles be okay?' he asks with a small voice.

'He'll be fine if you get the fevers done,' Dr. Wills reassures him. 'Why don't you get some rest too? You sound like you need it.'

Scott smiles. That is the last thing on his mind. He returns to the back of the plane and kneels down, staring at Stiles' sleeping form. Gently he touches his friend's skin, constantly checking for fevers. As he looks up, Derek stares at him troubled.

They are far from okay.


	9. The Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for following, your fantastic comments, reviewing and kudos! so much appreciated!!

**Chapter 9: The Bite**

Scott sighs, suddenly feeling trapped inside the aircraft's small compartment as he waits, and waits, and waits. The others have taking seats. Liam is resting with his head against the plane's wall. Derek is constantly trying out his smartphone. Malia sits and stares at Stiles. Lydia is resting her eyes. He focuses on her breathing, keeping an eye on her before she can slip into a deep sleep.

Scott hates feeling this powerless, unable to take away enough pain from Stiles, for him to be lying on those blankets like that. He's used to protecting his pack and Stiles _is_ pack. And above all, he feels guilty as hell.

He still debates making a run for it as darkness falls around the plane, but he knows Derek is right. He wouldn't know where to run and could wind up everywhere. Being away from Stiles could only make matters worse.

Their patient lies very still in the same position as before. He hasn't moved since he passed out.

'I need some air,' Malia suddenly mutters, stomping towards the exit, pushing it open and almost running off the ladder.

Outside it is getting much colder but it's exactly that cold that keeps her on her toes right now. It's the kind of cold she was used to when she lived as a coyote. She wraps her arms around herself, staring into nothingness. Despite being with her friends, she's never felt this helpless and lonely before.

She closes her eyes, lifting her face to the skies and took deep breaths, allowing the cold to enter her mouth, throat and lungs. How good it feels to be able to breathe like that. How awful it must be for Stiles not being able to do the exact same. How angry it makes her feel for not listening to him in the first place. If only they had ignored that smoke. If only they had told that pilot off. If only -

A shiver runs down Malia's spine as she realizes the consequences of such a simple decision. A decision that could now cost them dearly. Stiles cannot heal himself. If it had been one of the others, they would have been fine. They could have waited for help. They could have healed. They would have been saved.

But Stiles can't heal. He can't be saved by them. He's the victim of their friendship, of their jokes, of a decision made by them instead of him. Malia isn't used to feeling so helpless. She loves Stiles to death, hates seeing him suffer. And she hates this whole situation.

A few minutes later she hears Scott's footsteps behind her. 'The IV is still dripping fluids inside of him. Lydia did an amazing job back there.'

'Is he still breathing?' Malia asks, at the same time regretting having asked the question. What if Scott came to tell her Stiles is gone? Her shoulders ache from the strain she's feeling. She's so scared of losing Stiles it kills her.

'Yeah, he's still out cold. That's good though, the doctor says. It will give him some recovery time. His body has endured too much stress as it is. It's a miracle he held on for as long as he did. He's strong, Malia, always has been, even when he appears frail in comparison to some of us.'

'You took away a lot of his pain, which definitely helped,' Malia smiles weakly. 'What is the doctor's prognosis?'

'He said we have to keep a very close eye on him and monitor his breathing. There isn't much we can do against the fever though. Lydia just woke up and found a small bag with pain meds in the box Liam retrieved from the back. She has somehow hooked that one up to the other one and we're pumping that into him right now. But that's all we have and it won't be enough. Not even our pain relief is enough right now. He's hurting pretty badly. All we can do now, is to keep him comfortable.'

'It's better than nothing, I guess.'

Scott runs both hands through his hair. 'This sucks, you know?'

'I know.' Malia places her hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Scott.'

'No more than I am.' He turns towards the plane. 'We have to shut down some more lights and spare as much fuel as we can. If we lose the radio, we're on our own. We can't afford that in case something happens to Stiles.'

'I found some flashlights in one of the trunks, we could use those,' Malia offers. 'But we don't really need them, do we? We can see in the dark.'

'Stiles can't. Neither can Lydia. You look like hell, Malia. Why don't you get some rest? I'll keep guard and wake you when he comes to,' Scott offers.

She shakes her head. 'I'd rather stay alert, but thanks. Why don't you rest a bit?'

He smiles. 'Fat chance. Come on. It's really getting cold our here now the sun's gone.'

'The skies were so beautiful tonight,' Malia muses. 'And to think that we could have been lingering at a swimming pool right now, with heaters all around us, enjoying well-deserved relaxation time. Why in god's name did we do this to ourselves, Scott?'

'I don't know,' he says. 'We're here because we cared about the people in that car.'

'We should have cared more about Stiles.'

'He knows we love him.'

'Does he? Or will he die thinking we teased him during his last living hours with his jeep and his sickness?' Malia retorts sharply. 'I even placed a bet on him, remember?'

'It was a joke, he knows that. And he won't die. I won't let him,' Scott speaks firmly.

'Are you going to bite him if he's too weak to ask for it himself?'

'If I have to, yes.'

'You'd be going against his wishes.'

'I know.'

'Then don't do it.'

'Even if it might cost him his life?'

'He won't survive even if you did,' Malia gently remarks. 'He's too weak.'

Scott knows that, but he doesn't want to admit to himself that his final resort might not be enough. He won't bite Stiles against his wish, he has always sworn that. If he wants it, he has to say it. But what if he isn't able to speak for himself anymore? What if there is still a tiny chance he could make it if he does it _now_?

Inside the plane, Scott, Derek and Malia shut down all the lights, taking out the large emergency flash lights from the back of the aircraft. The only thing they keep working, is the radio. Mike's voice speaks soothingly as he keeps them informed about the status, telling them several cars had been gathered with emergency equipment. The search parties are on their way, dividing in groups to search the huge area.

'I reached his dad, he's driving out to Palm Springs,' Mike says. 'He left about an hour ago.'

'Knowing him, he'll do it in three hours,' Scott mumbles.

'As long as he doesn't take the jeep,' Derek dryly remarks, delivering a smile on their weary faces.

Malia has returned to her place at Stiles' side, caressing his forehead while she speaks gently to him, even though he's still out of it. It makes her feel better if she pretends he's listening. Lydia leans back on a seat, her eyes not leaving Stiles for one second. Liam is looking out the window, closing his eyes for a brief moment when Scott tells him to do so.

'Just a few more hours now,' Mike says. 'Just hang in there, we're all rooting for you.'

At that moment they hear the roars of Mountain Lions in the far distance.

'You'd better hurry,' Derek says, 'or we might end up as dinner.'

Scott stands up and looks outside, spotting a large group of animals approaching the plane. They picked up the scents of their natural enemies.

'I hate the desert,' he mutters aloud.


	10. The Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for following!

**Chapter 10: The Guilt**

They see the mountain lions surrounding the plane. There's no denying the beasts have come to devour them, happily realizing their prey was stupid enough to stay on their turf in the middle of the night.

Derek moves upfront, shutting off the radio so they only hear Mike but he doesn't hear them. One glance outside tells the oldest wolf they are up against a group of at least six animals.

'We won't be able to take them on,' he says troubled. 'They're all adult, I'm guessing one male and his females. If they attack us, they'll eat us alive. We're outnumbered.'

'So we have to stay inside until help arrives,' Lydia says, worried about the situation.

'They'll try to lure us out. They'll attack the plane. These animals are hungry,' Derek states. 'We can't underestimate them.'

'Then what do we do?' Malia asks. 'I'm not afraid of these beasts, I've seen worse out in the woods.'

'Out there, it was usually a one on one battle, Malia,' Derek returns. 'Here, you're up against a large group. There could be more of them, out there in the shadows. They're not like our packs, they can travel in large groups. They're extremely dangerous, trust me.'

A sharp cry startles them all. Stiles wakes up startled, his body shaking as he does, sending a new rush of pain through his head and chest.

'Scott?' he cries out without even being fully alert. 'Scott!'

Instantly they're all on their feet, surrounding him so he can see them all. Confusion lies in his eyes, the way he looks at them shocks them. He seems to have trouble recounting where he is and why he's lying on the ground, with something alien sticking inside his chest. Instinctively he tries to pull it out, his long fingers groping the alien object inside his chest.

'Stiles, stop it,' Lydia instantly says, moving forward.

'We're here, Stiles,' Scott gently says, grasping his best friend's left hand. 'We're all still here.'

Stiles tries to get up, but Derek gently pushes him down again, so his head relaxes against the blanket used as a pillow under his head.

'I've had -' Stiles swallows, trying to suck in air as he realizes something is wrong with him. 'I've had the worst nightmare. We were on a plane, there was an explosion and –'

'Stiles, that wasn't a dream,' Scott replies gently. 'We're still on the plane. Help is on the way. You've been badly injured.'

Stiles stares confused at him, not understanding what he is saying.

'Injured?'

'Yes, you have to stay calm,' Scott gently speaks, still holding his hand between his own. 'Help is on the way. Do you remember what happened?'

'No,' he says after a while. 'Where are we?'

'Do you remember the car exploding?' Lydia inquires softly. 'You were hit by a piece of metal. You broke some ribs and punctured your lung. I had to insert a tube into your chest. You passed out when I did that. We are still in the desert, where we landed.'

Stiles closes his eyes wearily, his voice drifting off. 'Why is it so dark in here? Why aren't we home? Where's my dad? I need to talk to my dad. Where is he? What's on television? I hear music. What's going on?'

Stiles' confusion startles Lydia. She doesn't like the tone of his voice at all. Somehow it feels off.

'Derek, turn on one of the lights,' she orders with a frown while she feels his forehead.

Derek walks back to the front and switches on the interior light. Scott stares shocked at Stiles' bluish lips. He's taking small, intense breaths, his chest moving oddly when he does. Even though he doesn't speak with hesitation anymore, he still has trouble saying something.

'What is it?' Derek asks as Lydia rushes forward and grabs the headset, switching the headset back on. 'Lydia, what's going on?'

'Is Dr. Wills still there?' she ask trembling.

'I'm here, Lydia,' he replies immediately.

'Stiles' lips are turning blue and he's making these strange sounds when he breathes. And he's confused and totally out of it. He doesn't remember much and talks nonsense. Is that normal?'

There is a silence on the other side and then Dr. Wills speaks again, his voice troubled. 'Is his fever still high?'

'Spiking. He feels very warm to the touch, despite the medication I've given him before.'

'I'm afraid it's getting worse then. It sounds like he's suffering from ARDS, also known as a shock lung, It means he's has respiratory distress syndrome as a direct result from the blast and the shock done to his lungs. It means that he might go into respiratory failure at any time. Is Derek still there?'

Lydia waves for Derek to come up front. He takes the second headset as he catches her worried gaze. 'Right here.'

'Was there a respiratory kit inside the First Aid box?'

'I don't know, what does it look like?'

'Find a box with a breathing tube in it and something that looks like a small hard plastic bag.'

Lydia waits impatiently as Derek rummages through all of the equipment and then returns. 'No, there isn't.'

Dr. Wills sighs. 'I was afraid about that.'

'Why? What's going on?' Lydia asks frantically.

'If I'm correct and Stiles is suffering from ARDS, he might stop breathing at any time. If that is the case, you'll need to manually resuscitate him. If he were in the hospital right now, he would get a breathing tube down his throat to relieve the pressure off his lungs. We would be keeping him into a medically induced coma. Basically his lungs are shutting down, making it hard for his body to receive the necessary air.'

'How long does he have?' Lydia asks fearfully as Scott comes to stand by their side, listening in.

'I can't predict that. If he's strong, he might last for six to eight hours. But to be honest, it could happen at any time too. The moment he stops breathing on his own, we have a major problem,' Dr. Wills confesses. 'You would be forced to manually breathe air into his lungs and nobody can keep that up for a long period of time.'

'How can we stop this?'

'You can't. You can only prevent him from passing out again, as it might worsen the situation. You have to keep him alert, no matter what. But once his lungs give out, it's –' Dr. Wills stops. 'I'm sorry, Lydia.'

Scott and Derek look at each other, knowing they might lose the battle after all as they watch Lydia struggle with this new information.

'No,' she replies sharply. 'I won't let that happen. We'll talk to him, keep him alert, get his mind off things. Stiles will NOT die, not like this.'

Derek nods determinedly. 'We'll figure out a way,' he vows. 'Just get the troops here _fast_.'

'We are doing everything we can, I promise,' Mike interrupts. 'The search parties are going at the speed of light. But we don't have anything to work with, except wrong coordinates. Check the luggage compartment of the plane, there should be flares that you can light in order to draw attention. It's what a lot of pilots have on board of smaller planes. I can't guarantee this one has it, but if it does, it might draw someone's attention if they are close enough to see it.'

The group looks up startled as the lights on the control panel start to blink.

'What's happening?' Scott asks, terrified they would be left alone in the dark.

'We're running out of fuel,' Derek replies, staring angrily at the meters.

'We can't afford to lose the radio, Derek,' Scott says frantically. 'We need them to be there for us.'

'I'm shutting down now for a while,' Lydia says to Mike and Dr. Wills. 'We'll be back later.'

As they shut down the radio and everything they can afford to miss, the group gathers in the back of the plane.

Derek looks out the windows, staring at the animals that are gazing back at them hungrily, waiting for them to exit the plane.

'We need to get to the compartments below,' he explains. 'Mike said there could be flares down there, something to help us draw attention. In the dark, flares could be clearly visible.'

'The mountains lions will butcher us,' Liam exclaims, gazing at Stiles. 'But I'm willing to give it a try. It's worth a shot.'

'So am I,' Malia states firmly. 'Whatever we can do to help, we'll do it.'

'No,' Scott calls out, 'I'm not losing anyone of you out there, I can't and won't let you go. It's too risky.'

'We have to take the risk, for Stiles,' Malia exclaims. 'You can't stop us, Scott. We are doing this.' She lets go of Stiles' hand as she moves away from him, ready to fight.

'No.'

Stiles' small voice draw them to him. He opens his eyes, showing his clarity of mind as he fights against the darkness and confusion. He hears the animals call out to them, eager to devour them. 'No one dies because of me.'

'Stiles, this is not your call,' Derek says firmly. 'You are not going to die. I can beat those beasts.'

'Derek, _stop_.' Stiles' eyes catch the oldest wolf. 'I don't want you to go. You _can't_ go.'

'And I'm not going to sit back and watch you die either,' Derek retorts angrily. 'I am going. Alone.'

Before the others can stop him, Derek moves to the door, followed by Malia and Liam, anger raging through them. Scott hesitates before walking towards the exit too, realizing he has to make a choice. If there is the slightest chance something in the luggage compartment can help his best friend, he's willing to risk it. He knows he can't stop the others, even if he truly wanted to. And he doesn't want to.

'No!' Stiles' voice resounds so strongly that they all stop and turn, staring at the hurt human. 'Not because of me.' Tears flow down his face as he struggles to sit up, exhausted by the slightest move, fighting against his natural boundaries.

'Not again,' he ends.

Lydia immediately understands as Stiles tries to explain what he means. The Banshee moves to the others, her voice whispering emotionally as she tries to keep him from hearing.

'The last time he was in danger like this, Allison and Aiden died,' she says. 'He doesn't want this happening again. He doesn't want anyone of you to die because of him.'

Shocked the others stare at each other as memories of their deaths rush back in.

'You don't get it,' Lydia says quietly. 'He still feels guilty. He still thinks it's _his_ fault.'

'It _was_ my fault,' Stiles mumbles, lying on the blankets. 'She died because of _me._ They both did.'

'No, they didn't,' Scott retorts, kneeling down at Stiles' side. 'You are not to blame.'

'I let him in.'

'And you fought back. He was too strong, he would have won over all of us.'

'I'm just human,' Stiles mutters. 'I opened the door, that's why he got in. I should have closed it.'

'If he had taken a wolf, he still would have won,' Lydia speaks quietly and gently, reminding Stiles of the real truth. 'He was a thousand years old, remember? And in the end, we still beat him, because of your divine move. Yes, they died, but you saved all of us. You figured him out.'

Stiles nods quietly, taking in her words. 'I still hate it.'

'Then hate him, not yourself,' Scott whispers quietly.

'Please don't go, Scott.' Stiles begs quietly. ' _Please_.'

Scott turns to the others. 'We won't go and fight them,' he says quietly. 'Stiles is right, it's too dangerous without extra help.'

'Perhaps we won't have to,' Liam interrupts. 'We might find a way of going in through the plane itself. There should be a safety hatch somewhere.'

The others stare at him. Liam shrugs with a smile.

'Hey, Lydia knows about doctors, I love anything that drives or flies.'

The group splits up as they search the plane's floor for a hidden hatch, while Lydia sits with Stiles and checks the tube and his fever. He stares at her quietly, murmuring his thanks. Then he shuts his eyes and sinks away before she can react. Despite her efforts to wake him up, he doesn't react.

'He's out,' she calls out to the others. 'I can't wake him up!'

'Hurry,' Scott cries out.

Derek is the one who finds the hidden hatch, right underneath the seat he was sitting on as he teased Stiles earlier. It all seems so long ago, yet it was only less than an hour and a half since the car blew up. With above human force he pulls the seat off its iron hold, throwing it aside to look at the hatch. His nails scratches thick lines in the leather seating.

'There goes that lovely upholstery,' Lydia murmurs.


	11. The Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the nice comments! We move on.

**Chapter 11: The Memories**

Frustrated Derek pulls open the hatch and looks into the plane's luggage compartment. Switching his eyesight, he sees stacks of boxes. Frantically he search for something – _anything_ to help them. Extra barrels of fuel, an emergency radio, flares, _anything._

'What do you see?' Scott asks, hovering over Derek's shoulder.

'There are boxes with flares,' he calls out in triumph to the others. 'I can lower myself in and get them.'

The wolf crawls up and jumps in plane's small hold. Making himself as small as possible, he retrieves several boxes with flares which he hands to the others.

'Got it. Nothing else that can help though,' he sighs as he pulls himself out of the hold and pushes the hatch back into place.

'We can use them to chase away the animals, perhaps even kill them,' Scott proposes. 'We need to get outside to light the flares and draw attention.'

The lights inside the plane flicker briefly. 'We've used too much resources, we must shut everything down right now,' Derek states, moving up front where he turns off all they can afford to miss.

 _Now I know what it feels like to be blind,_ Lydia thinks as she shuts off the compartment light again. The flashlight they have placed here and there illuminate the area in a ghostly manner. Stiles looks even sicker than he already does. Derek, Malia, Scott and Liam discuss what to do with the flares.

Lydia suddenly feels a hand on her wrist, starling her. As she looks down, she sees Stiles awake. Relief floods through her as she sees his mind is pretty clear. It's almost as if he took a timeout to clear out his confusion.

'Lydia,' Stiles groans, opening his eyes. 'Thirsty.'

'I know, Stiles,' she sooths gently. 'I used the water to get your fever down. I'm sorry.'

He hardly seems to listen to her, too far gone to care. The Banshee opens Stiles' suitcase and tears up one of his white shirts. Then she remembers the stocked small bar the pilot had mentioned before. She hadn't thought of that before.

She finds four bottles of water in a small refrigerator hidden under one of the seats. The refrigerator is shut down with the rest of the power on board, but the water is still pretty cool. She takes one out, screws it open and dips water over the cloth. Then she places the cooling cloth over Stiles' forehead, wiping away beads of sweat.

'You can have a bit of water, but not too much,' she says, holding her hand in his neck. 'Just try to sip.'

He moans as she touches him, opening his eyes and staring at her. Unable to drink, she uses another rag to wet his lips with, trying to get him to suck a bit on it to sooth his dry mouth.

He is far away, Malia and Lydia notice. No more jokes or remarks, pain and fear have taken completely over. This is no longer Stiles Stilinski staring at them but a teenager whose life is in grave danger. And he knows it.

Malia's eyes fill with tears as she is lingering between her coyote-self and her human-self who loves Stiles. She wants to go out and fight, but she also wants to stay with him. It's Scott who ultimately takes the decision for her, telling her to stay with him. Nervously she kneels down, unable to say a sensible thing.

'Talk to him,' Lydia encourages. 'Get his mind off the situation.'

'What do I say? I don't know if I can handle this,' she almost pleads.

'You can and you will,' Lydia says, placing her hand on Malia's wrist. 'You are so strong, Malia. He's so crazy about you, he admires your strength. Tell him stories, memories, anything that might help, okay?'

Malia nods, her eyes focusing on Stiles who isn't returning her gaze.

'Hey Stiles,' she says softly. 'Do you remember the first time we met out in the woods? That was kind of weird, huh? I was so angry that you took me home, but it turned out to be the best thing in my life. I got to meet you.'

He doesn't reply but she hears his heartbeat relax more, and she knows that he's listening to her voice, remembering who she is and what they have been through together.

'I was so scared when you vanished out of Eichen House, did you know that? I had fallen in love with you right there and you were so beautiful, so gorgeous. I fell head over heels and that hasn't stopped since.'

Lydia smiles, listening to Malia's memories. Stiles has told her the full story of how they met, what they went through at Eichen House and how the Nogitsune had used Malia against him to get inside his head. He loved Malia, she knew that. And he still loved Lydia too, just as she loved him. He was the most important person in her life right now, and somehow, he knew that too.

As Derek, Scott and Liam prepare, they listen to Malia's gentle voice as she continues.

'You have brought me back to life, Stiles. You're my lifeline.'

Her confession startles them all. Even though they knew she loved him, none of them seemed to realize how deep her love went. The guys always thought Stiles and Malia were having just a fling, enjoying themselves as they grew up. Somehow, they fitted together, but no one ever thought it would last. Lydia knows, she's always known.

Stiles' eyes close as he listens to her, his rapid breathing becoming calmer.

'Keep going,' Derek whispers as he comes closer. 'It seems to be working.'

Lydia dips another piece of cloth into water and wets Stiles' face, listening to Malia's quiet voice as she fights back tears.

'You don't mind if I go crazy now and then. You don't care that you've got scratches on your back. You don't care what people think of me. You've helped me so much and I love you for every single thing you did for me. Even if it ever ends, I'll always love you for all that you did for me.'

Stiles nods quietly, remembering it all.

Derek sheds new eyes on Stiles, realizing at that very moment, the passion and love the human in Scott's pack has, go way beyond anything he ever considered possible. For one long moment, the pain of loneliness stings Derek. Then he looks up to find Scott gazing at him, smiling as he understands what Derek is going through. He wants to say that he's not alone.

'You're so relentlessly alert, always so smart,' Malia whispers gently. 'You solve the riddles.'

'Tired, Malia.' Stiles mutters, so quietly they can barely hear him. 'So tired of it all.'

'You'll get better before you know it,' Malia speaks bravely, misunderstanding what he's trying to say. 'You've survived so much. This is just a walk in the park for you. Tomorrow you'll be scolding us for not listening to you in the first place.'

'N – No … Tired of the … the battle. The fights.' Stiles opens his feverish eyes, staring right at Lydia, while talking to all of them. 'S-Sometimes too much.'

Lydia holds her breath, knowing what he's referring to. And it concerns her that his voice has gone back to the tired, almost too difficult speech.

'Beacon Hills needs you, Stiles,' Lydia says. 'You can't just let go.'

'You – You'll take o – o – over.' He smiles at her. 'You're the B-Banshee.'

Lydia wets a third cloth and places it at Stiles' lips, helping him gently as Malia leans back.

'No, I won't,' she says, 'I refuse to take over. It's _your_ battle too, Stiles. You've always said that, you voluntarily became involved when Scott was bitten. You can't just quit on us now, so stop talking like that, because I won't listen.'

Stiles smiles wearily. 'Y – Yes … ma'am.'

Lydia leans back heavily and rubs her face exhausted. Glancing at her watch she notices it's nearly 9 p.m. In her mindset it feels like a century has gone by. They have been here for hours and who knows how much longer it will still take to find them.

Derek walks up the front with Scott and Liam, all three of them carrying flares.

'Are you ready?' he asks.

'Yes, we are.'

The three wolves open the compartment door and run down the ladder as they light the flares.


	12. The Flares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so very, very much for your fantastic comments on this story! 
> 
> I really, truly appreciate it so very much, it warms my heart.
> 
> Thank you again!
> 
> I can now say this story consists of 20 chapters, and I will continue to post daily. Have a nice day!

 

**Chapter 12: The Flares**

Derek runs forward, leading the way for the other wolves who are right behind him, having his back. The three of them form a pack, heading straight for the animals who circle them, searching for the weak spot.

And they find it. Their weak spot, the weakness of every animal, is fire and flames.

Derek transforms as he picks out the first animal, running towards it instead of away. The animal runs towards him, fearless for a moment, until the werewolf doesn't back out. The animal seems to hesitate in his flight towards Derek, unable to stop the weight of its body as it moves forward fast.

At the same time the creature attacks, Derek throws the flare at it. Instantly its fur catches fire. The mountain lion screeches as it becomes a living torch. Instantly the animal turns and runs away, trying on instinct to get rid of the fire that's burning it alive.

Derek growls as he watches the beast flee, but he's surprised by two other animals that attack at the same time. The first one throws him to the ground, grabbing the flesh of his arm as it throws him downwards to the ground.

As the wolf lies on the ground and fights off the first animal, the second one attacks him too, its mouth open to devour him. From the plane, an animalistic cry screams out. Malia jumps out of the plane, running fearless towards the animals that attack Derek.

The oldest wolf fights off the two, knowing he can't win. From the corner of his eye, he sees Scott finding one and Liam struggling with the other. Then Malia is behind the first animal, her strength throwing the beast to ground, pushing a burning flare between its teeth.

The mountain lion takes off, its mouth, head and body on fire soon. It drops to the ground like a log before it gets away too far.

Scott manages to push his flare into the animal that is attacking him, at the same time a second one approaches. Then that animal too runs away, its animalistic tones screeching as flames catch its fur. The second one is surprised by the flames and runs away with its mate. The bigger one is the male, the leader of the group. As he takes off, the females run after it, forgetting their prey.

As Derek lies heaving on the ground, clutching his broken and damaged arm, he sees Scott sinking to the ground, bloodied as he fought a mountain lion too. Malia kneels between them.

'Are you okay?'

Derek nods, holding his arm as he sits up.

'Where's Liam?' Malia asks.

'Liam!' Scott cries out as he crawls towards Derek.

For a moment they are convinced he's gone, eaten by the other mountain lions. But then they see a shadow return back from the dark. Blooded and bruised, his blue eyes fierce and angry, the youngest wolf half limps, half walks back towards them.

'Those mountain lions won't return anytime soon,' Liam states forcefully. 'I threw my flare at the biggest one, he lit up like a campfire. That was great!'

His words cause the others to grin, despite their predicament. They can just see Liam chasing the animals, bearing his teeth, shouting to them in an attempt to release some of his stress.

They sit together as their wounds quickly heal. Scott gathers three flares and lights them at the same time, throwing them on a pile. The flares make one hell of a firework, but instinctively they all know it won't be enough.

'It was all for nothing,' Derek mutters under his breath. The others can't blame him for saying so.

As they return to the plane, Lydia sits quietly next to Stiles, who isn't saying a single word while he has returned to his ritual of focusing on his breathing, shivering. Immediately Scott notices the difference in warmth inside the plane. It's cooling down too fast, unhealthily so. He clasps Stiles' hands, only to find they're icy cold.

'I'm afraid to cover him up in blankets,' Lydia says. 'He's still burning up. But he could be suffering from hypothermia at this moment too. I don't know what to do, to be honest.'

Scott closes the plane door goes and into the back where he finds some thin blankets. He lowers one over Lydia and hands others out to the rest of the pack.

In the front of the plane, Derek talks quietly to Mike for a few minutes. Then he turns off the radio again and returns to them.

'They're combing every inch of this damned desert,' he says. 'They've covered a great deal already, it can't be too long now. They're sending in even more cars. Nobody saw the flares.' He rubs his tired eyes. 'I'm actually debating right now to search for them myself.'

'No,' Scott says. 'We stick together, like you said. We can help Stiles, but we won't help ourselves if we take the risk. There are more mountains lions out there, we can't defend ourselves or outrun them. We stay with Stiles.'

'And his dad?' Lydia asks. 'Any news?'

'He'll be arriving soon as well, in Palm Springs, that is,' Derek confirms. 'They'll get him on the line so he can talk to Stiles.'

Malia doesn't speak a word, realizing she's on the verge of losing all hope. She feels defeated by their uselessness.

Stiles grunts as he opens his eyes, trying to speak.

'I – Is my d- dad coming?' He heaves, struggling to fight against his pain that is getting worse again.

Derek immediately sinks down, placing both hands on Stiles' chest, dark veins running up through his hands and arms.

'Stiles, just rest a bit,' he speaks gently. 'We're right here if you need us. I'll take care of your pain. You just take it easy and stop worrying so much.'

Stiles' eyes catch the older wolf, relaxing a bit as he takes away the hardest pain. 'No j-jokes, Derek? N-no cracks or i-innuendos with y-your hands on my n-naked chest?'

Derek raises a dark eyebrow. 'Innuendos?'

'Y-yeah, you know.' Stiles snorts. 'Y-you do know s-some people think y-you've got the h-hots for me?'

The wolf stares at Stiles as if he's gone mad. Then he gazes at Scott, searching for answers. The true Alpha innocently grins. 'Yeah well, you do tend to tease him quite a bit. And you know what they say about that.'

'No, I don't,' Derek retorts.

'You tease the one you love,' Lydia replies dryly.

Instinctively the oldest wolf lets go, staring from his hands to Stiles and back.

'H-hey don't s-stop now,' Stiles grins wryly. 'That f-feels p-pretty good.'

Derek holds his breath as he returns his hands to Stiles' chest, his cheeks flushing a scarlet red. Then he catches the eyes of the others, including Stiles, on him. They are all grinning.

'You jerks,' he mutters, releasing a wry smile on his face.

Scott watches his friends as they linger around Stiles. And then he sees Stiles' face too. Somehow, despite everything that is going on, this is one of the best nights of their lives. Even with Stiles' life on the line, they have never been this close.

Oh, how he misses Kira. How he wishes she were here. He catches Lydia's knowing smile as she slowly nods and places a hand on his wrist.

She understands perfect.


	13. The Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the kudos, the reading, the commenting and so much more.   
> We move on :).

**Chapter 13: The Regrets**

Lydia returns from a brief talk with dr. Wills to give an update on Stiles' condition, to find her patient in a half-sleep. His eyes are closed and he barely talks anymore. She sits down next to Malia, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder.

The group knows he's lingering between sleep and awareness, holding on as much as he can. His hand grips Malia's tight, holding onto her with such strength it surprises the Coyote.

Another fifteen minutes has passed and he's shivering visibly now. Lydia places a second blanket over him, feeling his fever radiate.

'Cold,' he whispers.

'Sorry Stiles,' she whispers gently, 'I can't cover you up too much, you're running a high fever.'

'More blankets,' he pleads.

'I can't, I'm sorry.' Her voice is apologetic as she watches Stiles shake. She feels terrible for denying him what he needs most, even though she does it to protect him.

'I'll hold your hands, Stiles,' Malia says, moving forward in the dark as she grasps his hands tight. 'I'll give you some warmth.'

He relaxes as she sits by him again, giving a little bit of herself to him.

'You rock,' he mutters.

'Scott, Liam, we need to talk,' Derek says as he watches Stiles slip away into a shallow sleep while the girls remain by his side. The wolves step outside in the cold night air, relieved to be out of their claustrophobic environment for the moment. With the door shut, they can speak freely.

'We need to be prepared for the worst,' Derek speaks. 'They should have been here by now.'

Scott looks up surprised, shocked the wolf is seemingly giving up on Stiles.

'Look,' the Alpha retorts, 'they know where we are within a twenty-mile radius. That means, if we calculated it right, they need about 2,5 – 3 hours to drive to this area and then start the search. Which means that - if they coordinate the search correctly, which I believe they will, they'll find us in less than two hours from now. They know these parts better than we do, they know where to look, even with this calculation.'

'I'm going crazy feeling this helpless,' Derek angrily confesses. 'I'd rather be stuck in a cage with one of those mountain lions than to just sit here and wait. It all seems so pointless. This entire evening feels like a bad dream. And it's my damned fault.'

'No, it isn't.'

'I took you guys out here. I shouldn't have,' Derek mutters. 'Everyone around me gets hurt. I should not even have considered this trip.'

'But you did,' Scott replies gently. 'You did, because you consider us your friends and you wanted to do something nice for us. You meant well and you are a good person for doing so, Derek. Stop beating yourself up over it.'

'You are going to lose your best friend because of me,' Derek replies. 'Are you seriously not going to hate me over this?'

'No.'

'Why the hell not?'

'Because I hate myself enough as it is,' Scott says. 'Stiles is usually right about his hunches. And we ignored him. We laughed at him because he was plane-sick. We joked about him when we should have been paying attention. I'm the lousiest friend he has, and I hate myself for it.'

Scott's shoulders sag as he confesses what is on his mind. 'I'm the one to blame, not you. We are used to you teasing him, just as he messes about with you. But truth be told, I'm the one who should have seen this coming. I should have listened. And I didn't.'

Derek places his hand on Scott's shoulder as the Alpha bursts into tears, his shoulders sagging.

'I'm so goddamned useless.'

'You can still give him the bite,' Liam says quietly. 'He might still make it.'

'No, not under these circumstances,' Derek instantly says. 'He'll die a painful death, probably a whole lot worse than he's going through now. I can't watch that happen. I can't –' Derek stops, unable to say it. 'Not again.'

'Then what do we do?' Liam asks. 'Come on guys, you always have a way out. You have a plan A and a plan B. Focus on Stiles.'

'I'm not the one with the plans,' Scott quietly says as he relaxes. 'That's Stiles.'

'Then, if you were him, what would you do? What would you expect us to do?'

Scott looks up. 'Nothing, but stay with me. Be there for me and make sure I don't fall into a coma. Tell stupid jokes, get people to talk, listen to some music. Yeah, that's what Stiles would do.'

'Then why don't you?' Derek asks. 'We're standing around because we don't and won't desert him, because we know that all he needs to do, is to hold on. So let's keep him busy, entertained.'

Scott raises an eyebrow. 'And tell stupid jokes?'

'Yeah, why not?'

'Are you even able to tell jokes?' Liam blurts out.

Derek stares at the two of them. 'Yeah, I can.'

'Okay, which one?' Liam challenges.

Derek frowns. 'Okay, I don't have any. But Stiles has some.'

'So you're suggesting we have _him_ tell the jokes, in the state he's in?' Scott asks. 'You're kidding, right?'

'Why not? It would keep his mind off dying,' Liam quickly says.

'The kid's right,' Derek smiles all of a sudden. 'If anyone can tell jokes while dying, it would be Stiles. Isn't that his forte?'

Scott laughs. 'Are you sure you're not secretly having an affair with my best friend? Because I sure as hell hear some admiration in your voice there.'

Derek kicks the Alpha in the ribs.

'You know,' Liam suddenly speaks quietly as they return to the plane. 'I always thought Stiles would die a heroic death, saving someone's life or something. But to watch him die like this, in such a stupid way, knowing that we are to blame for it. No, that doesn't make any sense at all.'

The older wolves stare at him shocked, surprised Liam is voicing what they're all thinking.

'You are right,' Scott speaks softly. 'And I didn't protect him well enough. Like I said, worst friend ever. I got him into this. Without the bite, we would have been leading a normal life, with normal people.'

Liam's fierce blue eyes look at his alpha. 'It's not your fault, Scott, so stop beating yourself up over it. The bite wasn't your fault and neither is this. Stiles knows that. It was an accident.'

'Stiles asked us – no, practically _begged_ us – not to go down there and we still did. We made jokes about his, remember?' Scott almost shouts, forgetting his good intentions immediately. 'We did this to him!'

'He knows that we did it for the right reasons,' Derek sooths a shaky Scott. 'We went out to that car to see if we could help. You wouldn't be who you are, had you not landed there to see if you could help out. You would have felt guilty for ignoring it, wondering forever what you could have done had there been real people in distress. That's what you do as the true Alpha, this is your nature. There's no way you could have known that they were already dead. Stiles doesn't blame you, you know? He doesn't blame anyone.'

'But the pilot is still dead and Stiles is about to die, that's the painful reality,' Scott retorts hoarsely. 'If only we could turn back time. If only we had known.'

'We live every day with the reality of our actions, Scott,' Derek calmly points out. 'Whatever we do bears consequences. Stiles chose to be part of your pack. He knows there are dangers linked to that.'

'But this was not a pack thing. There wasn't a reason to get hurt. I should have protected him!'

'And what does that mean exactly, Scott?' Derek retorts strongly. 'That you are going to wrap Stiles up from now on to make sure he doesn't bang his head whenever he falls against a table? That you're going to steal his car keys to make sure he never drives his jeep again to prevent him from crashing it? Are you going to stop him from _living_ then too? Well, good luck with that.'

Scott stares in shock at Derek, as does Liam. Then Scott smiles wearily. 'Thanks Derek, I guess I needed that.'

'Yeah, you did. Now let's go back inside. We're not giving up. We're not the ones hurting here. If we give up on him, then so will he. He'll have no reason to go on. So tell him to pop out those lame jokes.'

Derek pats his friend on the back, smiling at Scott's tired features. 'And by the way? Alphas also need their rest. You can't live off peanuts and adrenaline alone, you know? Don't think I haven't noticed you're swaying on your legs.'

Scott smiles, knowing he'll never rest until Stiles is safe.

'Guys?' Liam calls out.

The wolves turn, only to find car lights brightening the area.

'They're here. Do you see that?' Liam calls out, 'they're here!'

He runs to the other side of the plane, heading towards the lights. 'Hey, over here!' he cries out, waving his hands.

Derek narrows his eyes, staring cautiously at the black jeep heading over the road towards them, as a very cold feeling of dread washes over him. There should have been more cars than that. There should have been an ambulance, or a search party, or someone with authority. Not the jeep that approaches them.

He sees Malia and Lydia exiting the aircraft too, standing on the steps of the plane, and thinking they're going to be saved. Something inside of Derek screams alarm when he picks up the scent of fear, radiating off the vehicle. He grasps Scott's wrist tight, his face twisted.

'They're not here,' he mutters. 'It's not them.'


	14. The Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your lovely comments! On with the show!

**Chapter 14: The Men**

A single black jeep approaches the small plane, stopping at a short distance from them. Scott, Liam and Derek hold their hands up, covering their eyes against the sharp car lights which blind them all. The girls are standing on the steps of the plane, holding back as Scott signals them.

'Go back inside,' Malia tells Lydia. 'Stay with Stiles and hide.'

'Hide where? The plane is small, you know?' Lydia mutters as she goes back in, her senses kicking in as she realizes something's about to go terribly wrong.

As the vehicle stops, the three wolves cautiously wait until someone opens the jeep door, but that doesn't happen. The driver remains seated and doesn't make a single move towards them.

Scott cautiously walks over to the driver's side, gazing inside. Two men gaze back, carefully watching the teenager's every move. The driver wheels down his window and turns off the engine, eying the party of four teenagers and one adult, standing in front of him. Derek is the one he's most cautious of. He definitely considers the teenagers to be harmless.

'Thank god you found us,' Scott speaks first, 'did you bring medical supplies? Are more people coming?'

The men glance at each other and then back at him. 'Medical supplies?'

'Yeah … aren't you from the search party?' Scott tries to hide his carefulness.

The two hesitate. Then the driver says, 'No, we were just passing through. What's wrong?'

Instantly Scott feels himself turn cold again as he cautiously looks aside at the other two Wolves, the Banshee and the Coyote. He again signals behind his back for the others to wait. Every single muscle in him warns him about these men.

Scott takes one step backward, away from them, ready to fight them if needs be. He's ready to transform, to attack.

'What are _you_ doing here?' the passenger asks, chewing on a gum as he lazily eyes the teenager before him.

'There was an accident,' Scott speaks slowly and cautiously. 'We spotted smoke just over that hill there when we were nearby. We were tourists flying over. Our pilot decided to go take a look, so we landed here and went to see where the smoke came from. The car exploded before we could reach it. Our friend is badly hurt and our pilot is dead. Do you have a mobile connection by any chance, or an exact direction of where we are now?'

'Kid, we're in the middle of the desert, there is no such thing as mobile phones around here,' the passenger snorts. 'Trust me, you won't be able to reach anyone.'

Scott carefully peers inside the vehicle, noticing a built-in GPS. If they can get the coordinates out of that, they can call it in and pinpoint their exact location. It will save them a lot of time. But something tells him these guys won't be eager to share that bit of information with them.

Scott glances at Derek, warning him to tread carefully. The adult moves closer.

'Look, we just need help for our friend,' he says. 'People are looking for us, we need immediate medical help.'

'Is there anything we can do for your friend?' the driver asks. 'Where is he?'

'He's inside the plane,' Scott says quietly. 'He's badly hurt, he needs help.'

'Sure, we'll help him,' the passenger snorts, receiving a kick in the ribs from his friend.

'We're waiting for help from Palm Springs,' Derek speaks, 'there's nothing much you can do, except perhaps get us back to Palm Springs. Your jeep seems large enough to get him transported. He's stable enough to be moved, if one of us can go with him, we can bring him to a hospital.'

'We're not exactly heading into that direction,' the driver says. 'The exact opposite, I should say.'

'So, nobody knows where you are?' the passenger asks slowly, his eyes focused on Scott as his voice becomes dangerously low.

'They are searching for us,' Scott retorts slowly, realizing they're up for a fight. 'A lot of people.'

'But nobody knows where you are.'

The driver and his passenger share a glance. 'That's good,' the passenger mutters, exiting the vehicle from his side.

The driver opens his car door, pointing a gun at _the tourists_. 'That's very good, actually.'

'What's going on?' Scott asks, trying to sound as frightened as possible while Derek slowly approaches and Liam grows angrier, claws ready. The passenger quickly hauls out his own gun and fires at Derek. The slug impacts on Derek's chest, throwing the wolf backwards to the ground. A second later, the gun goes off a second time, a bullet fired straight into Liam's abdomen. He falls with a cry next to the older wolf, out for the count.

'Derek, Liam!' Malia shouts, rushing off the steps. Scott balls his fists, staring right into the barrel of the driver's gun.

'No,' Scott cries out, trying to stop the Coyote as she runs forward. Before she can reach Derek, the passenger aims his gun at the dark-haired girl, stopping her before she can reach the older wolf. A third bullet lands into her chest, dropping her to the ground. Scott quietly closes his eyes for a brief moment, listening to their heartbeats. Three beats, all slowed down, all going strong. His shoulders sag.

'Stay calm if you don't want to go next, kid,' the driver says, aiming his gun at Scott's head. The Alpha raises his hands, gazing directly into the driver's eyes.

'What do you want?' he speaks through clenched teeth. 'You killed my friends.'

'And if you don't want to die too, you do as we say. There was another girl, wasn't there?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'I saw her, long red hair, standing on the steps. Is she in the plane?'

'She's harmless.'

'We don't care.' The passenger snorts, kicking Derek. 'Sorry to say you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

Scott knows he has to keep them out of the plane, but knows he will fail in doing so. The driver grabs him roughly by the arm, pulling him against him as a protective shield, the gun pressed against the back of his head. Scott knows he won't survive a bullet in his brain. He gazes at the others, lying very still and unconscious on the ground. He has to play th innocent card, the scared one.

The driver nods at his friend, ignoring Malia, Liam and Derek who lie still on the ground.

'You go make sure that there's nothing left of the bodies in the car. I'll deal with him and his two friends on board.'

'Right.' The passenger leaves, holding his gun in his hand as he runs straight for the hill and over it, knowing which way to go without even thinking about it.

'What are you doing?' Scott asks, biting his tongue in order not to betray himself. 'Are you going to kill us too? Why? What did we do to deserve this?'

'My friend is just making sure that you're telling the truth about the car, and to check if the bodies in there are obliterated.'

'What bodies?' Scott asks, playing his innocent-kid-look-card. 'We just saw a burning car. It blew up before we even got to the bottom of the valley. I don't know who you are and what you want from us. You killed my friends for nothing.'

'You shouldn't have landed here, you know,' the driver says. 'It would have saved you a lot of trouble. Here we were, thinking we'd found the perfect place to kill those bastards off. But no, you had to go and mess with our business. If it weren't for you and your damned curiosity, nobody would have found them for ages. The car would have exploded and every shred of evidence would have burnt to a crisp.'

'I don't want to hear this,' Scott says, his eyes fixed upon the plane, knowing he will endanger the other two if they make it in. But right now, he has no choice. 'We don't want to know.'

'But you are already part of it,' the driver explains. 'Imagine our surprise when we were sitting in this bar near the Palm Springs main police station, and this cop comes running in to get his off-duty colleagues, and some volunteers, to search for a plane stranded in the middle of the desert. A plane with a bunch of kids and no pilot, who was killed when an abandoned car exploded before their eyes. Imagine our shock when we put two and two together. Of course, we had the advantage of knowing exactly where to look. They didn't. That saved us time.'

Scott feels the blood drain from his face as he tries to figure out how to attack without getting shot in the head.

'So what are you going to do now, kill us too? What's the point? We don't know who you are, or why you killed those people. We don't want to know, we can keep our mouths shut. But if you kill the rest of us in cold blood, I can assure you that you'll spend the rest of your days watching your backs. We're just kids, you know? We didn't see anything. Hell, by tomorrow I won't even remember your license plate.'

'We'll be long gone by then, kid,' the driver snorts. 'And yes, you won't be able to tell anyone, because you won't be sticking around much longer. Do you really think I'm going to let you live while I killed the others? I forfeited my right to go free if they get me. And you know what? I don't give a damn. Let's go take a look at your friend, shall we? Walk. If you do as I say, I'll kill you quickly.'

As slowly as he can, Scott heads up the ladder and pulls open the door, going inside the compartment. The driver has his gun still pointed at the back of his head, using him as shield. The gun pressed to his head, the driver is very careful.

As they enter, Scott instantly senses something has changed.

'Move forward,' the driver orders him. 'Show me where your wounded friend and his girlfriend are. Aren't there any lights in this goddamned plane?'

'No, all the power died,' Scott says, shockingly surprised that the lights are all out inside the plane. Lydia nor Stiles can see in the darkness, they will be as blind as the driver is. When they walked out, they left two flashlights on so Stiles could see.

Before the two enter the plane, Lydia stares through the small windows outside, shocked at what she sees. The gunblasts shock her to the core. She stares at their new enemies, knowing they're in for trouble if they get in.

'Stiles, you need to get up,' she whispers, waking her friend. 'We have to hide.'

He stares at her as if she's gone mad. 'Where? There's nothing.'

'I can get you way back in the plane, hidden behind boxes. it will be a while before he finds you there.'

'Too small. Only room for one.'

I'll figure something else out,' she says frantically.

Stiles tries to gather all of his senses, trying to come up with a plan. Slowly Lydia pulls him up, holding him tight with her arm behind his back as she frantically searches for a place to stash Stiles away.

'In the front.' Stiles grips the seat, nodding towards the small cockpit. 'Get me there and close the door. You go in the back.'

'No, Stiles, that's too dangerous. He'll find you immediately!'

'No.' Stiles shakes his head as he touches Lydia's face. 'I'll be fine.'

Stiles sweats as he pushes himself with all the force he has, moving forward. Lydia has no choice but to do as he asks. She shuts the compartment door and moves to the back, hiding behind the boxes, as small as she can, freezing with fear as the plane door opens.

In the dark of the plane, Scott switches to his werewolf eyes and sees a dark heap of blankets lying on the floor where Stiles used to be. Not understanding, the Alpha moves forward, until he's near the blankets. He sees Lydia's slight movement in the back, catches her fear. She knows he senses her there. Her finger points in the dark to the front of the plane. Immediately he gets it.

'Stiles is right here,' Scott mutters, knowing the man doesn't see at all that there's no one there. He steps next to the blankets, leaning over, talking to a Stiles who isn't there. The gun remains pointed at his head.

'Stiles.' Then he looks up, seemingly shocked. 'Oh my god, he's not breathing anymore. He's dead.'

The driver pushes Scott forward, who falls on top of the blankets. He aims his gun at the black-haired teenager, ready shoot him.

A sound from behind him startles the driver. Turning around, he sees a dark-haired teenager come right at him. For an instant his attention is off.

'Catch,' Stiles hisses, throwing an object straight into the man's hands. Instinctively the driver tries to catch it, feeling something wet on his hands, followed by a strong scent. In disgust he stares at his hands, sensing something cold and sticky on them, dripping out of a brown paper bag.

And then, he sees a set of cold eyes in the dark go at him. He hears a growl, and finds fangs scratching him, hurting him. He looks up and sees the man his partner shot earlier, standing straight up. Behind him is the girl that he shot. And the other kid he shot too.

The driver cries out as he tries to get away, only to have Scott attack him too with fierce red eyes and fangs from the other side, pulling the gun out of his hand. Derek knocks him out.

'Ah!' Stiles cries out as he falls on his knees, clutching his chest. Scott sees blood dripping from his hand, thinking at first he's shot. Only to realize then that Stiles has pulled out the IV before crawling up and hiding in the pilot's cabin. Only to throw a brown paper bag with bile into the man's hands as a diversion.

Lydia moves from her hideout, switching on the flashlight she held as defense in her hands.

'Stiles,' Malia says, rushing to him and holding him tight while Scott, Derek and Liam check on their attacker.

'Out cold,' is Liam's dry reply before looking at Stiles who sits down panting on the cabin floor.

'What the hell did you do that for?' Derek barks. 'We can heal, you idiot! He could have shot you. We had a plan.'

'L- Lydia doesn't h-heal,' Stiles whispers hoarsely, staring at her pale features. Lydia kneels down, holding his face between her hands.

'Bile as a weapon, Stiles?' Scott smiles gently.

'My b-bat isn't on board.'

'It's over now, Stiles,' Malia speaks gently, holding her boyfriend in her arms. 'We're all okay. You did well.'

'Not exactly,' Derek replies as he picks up the man's gun and tucks it away behind his belt. 'The other one is still out there and he will be back in any second. We need his car. And this one has seen us wolf out.'

'Like anyone is going to believe that,' Liam mutters. 'He's so doped up on drugs he can hardly walk straight.'

'Straight enough to shove a gun in our faces though,' Scott remarks, focusing on Stiles. Malia, Scott and Lydia settle him down on the middle chair. Lydia's eyes are fixed on the man who tried to shoot her. She smiles at her friends.

'Go get him, tigers. And go get those coordinates.'

'Liam, you stay here with Stiles and Lydia,' Scott orders, pointing at the driver. 'If he so much as stirs, knock him out again.'

'Too bad we can't kill him,' Liam mutters.

'No killing,' Scott orders. 'The rules don't change.'

Derek grits his teeth angrily, rushing out the plane first, followed by the rest of the group, only to find their second suspect unexpectedly walking back to the car. As he sees Derek, the passenger freezes and ducks behind the plane's wheels, shooting at them. Instead of hitting them, he shoots his own vehicle in the process. The bullets strike the car, smashing into its hood and two tires. Derek prays the dashboard didn't take a hit either as they move into the darkness, using the night to their advantage.

As the shooter moves upward to get better aim, he suddenly stares into the faces of two Werewolves and one very angry Coyote. Scott has been shot but is still standing, the bullet barely grazing his arm. The three of them grab the passenger, shoving him roughly to the ground, knocking him out. He's too surprised to be much of a threat.

Derek is eager to take him out for good, only stopping when he realizes enough blood has been shed tonight. And he respects Scott's rules. Malia and Scott tie him up, roughly shoving his unconscious features against the plane's wheel, where they leave him be.

'He won't wake up for a while,' Scott says. 'The cops can deal with him.'

Derek opens the jeep, turning the ignition. To their good fortune, the GPS starts up immediately. The wolf taps on the buttons until he finds their exact GPS-coordinates.

'Got it!' he cries out in triumph, memorizing the data.

As he looks up, Derek's senses jump into alert. Something's wrong inside the plane. He can feel it. And then they hear it too, as Lydia screams.


	15. The Scissors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!  
> Thank you again for following and commenting :)

Chapter 15: The Scissors

Scott and Malia run back hastily to the plane, rushing up the small steps. The flashlights are still out, the entire plane is pitch black.

Scott freezes as he looks inside, using his wolf eyes. Lydia and Liam both lie unmoving partially in the aisle, partially between the seats. Both are the floor, facing each other. Lydia's strawberry blonde hair has spilled all over the back of her head, blood clearly visible between the strands.

Liam is bleeding profusely from a head wound, his eyes closed as he lies quietly on his side. His fangs are not out. He's in human form, obviously surprised by the driver whom they considered to be out for quite some time.

Stiles lies on the ground between the centered seats facing each other, shoved there by their attacker. The teenager is unharmed, apart from his already hurt chest. He has trouble breathing properly, the elaborated sound convincing the driver he's already half dead. Scott believes he's probably right.

The Alpha steps forward, changed into a werewolf, his anger aimed directly at the assailant who is bleeding from the side of his head too. The driver's eyes have grown used to the dark.

Malia is right behind Scott, her fierce blue eyes and fangs out. They don't care that a total stranger sees them turned. Their pack is in danger.

The driver holds a knife in his left hand as he kneels down by Lydia's side, holding it against her throat, pricking her skin. The right one still holds his gun. Then, as if he realizes that she bleeds, he shoves the gun against her head, looking up at the others.

'I don't know what the hell you all are, but you are going to stay back, or I'll slash her throat. Is she one of you freaks too?'

'No, she's not,' Scot says quietly, raising his hands. 'She's just a regular teenager that you are about to kill for nothing. Look, you don't want to do this, alright? She's done you no harm, none of us did. We didn't care about what you did to those people in the car. We only care for our friends.'

The man flashes on a light, staring shocked at the changed teenagers before him.

'What the hell are you? Werewolves or something?' The man tries to compose himself as he stares at them, trying to figure out what is going on. 'No, that can't be.'

'Yes, we are,' Scott admits. 'And we mean you no harm.'

'Jesus Christ,' the driver mumbles. 'I'm dead meat, aren't I? You're going to tear me apart. You eat people like me alive, don't you?'

'No one's tearing you apart,' Scott quietly says, his hands moving forward. The attacker sees the wound on his arm heal, staring at it shocked. 'But your bullets and your knives won't harm us. There's four of us and one of you. By the time you empty that gun, we will still be standing.'

'What kind of freak-show is this?' he cries out, fixated on the healing wound. 'I'm in hell.'

'We won't kill you, I promise,' Scott says gently, feeling Derek's presence right behind him as the older wolf steps inside too. 'We just want to save our friends, okay? Look at Stiles, look! He's human, like you. He can't heal, like us. He needs help. And we are going to give him that.'

'Fat chance.' The driver rises up, staring at Lydia who stays quietly on the ground, debating how fast he can pull her up. 'She's my ticket out. If she's just a person, then she'll be hurt if you harm me.'

'Just think about it,' Derek says gently, stepping forward. 'Your buddy outside won't be able to help you and he ran out of bullets. How many do you have in that gun of yours, three? Four? So what if you shoot her? You still won't get away. We're werewolves, and you're human. What does that tell you? Who's going to win, you think? You have nowhere to go, man. Your partner is already tied up, knocked out. Everyone will hunt you down like a dog if you harm her.'

'I'll tell them the truth about you!'

'And who's going to believe that?' Scott smiles gently. 'Come on, just put the gun down and I'll do a good word for you and make sure you don't get the chair. I promise.'

'Not a chance,' the driver snarls. 'Turn back to normal, or whatever the hell it is that you do. If I see one claw or fang, she's dead.'

Quietly Scott, Malia and Derek do what he says, returning to their normal form. Scott raises his hands. 'You see? All normal. Nothing to worry about.'

'Now, go to the back of the plane,' he orders, his gun pushed at Lydia's head.

Derek knows their attacker plans to fill them up with bullets, shooting them in the back. He's going to keep on shooting until he believes they are all dead. And he's probably going to take Lydia with him as collateral as he tries to walk out of the desert. Killers like these, who burn their victims alive, don't care about right or wrong. They just kill.

And he knows Stiles needs help fast. His breathing becomes shallower, he hasn't moved an inch ever since they got back on the plane. The wolf's concern grows.

'You, big guy, you first.'

Slowly Derek turns around and takes a first step towards the back of the plane, followed by the Malia and Scott. The driver kicks Liam in the face for a second time, making sure he's completely out of it and checks to see Lydia is still unconscious.

Satisfied, the driver steps over Stiles' legs.

But Stiles is awake. Lying exhausted on the floor, he controls his breathing while he waits for the right moment. He can barely see them all, just listens quietly to what was being said as he thought of a way to get them safe. The attacker was blocking the way, having shoved him out of the way, believing he was harmless. Frantically, Stiles' left hand searched for something to use as a weapon, only to find the open first aid kit right next to him. Grasping and feeling with his fingers, he finally found a small pair of scissors.

With a small, very painful move, Stiles shoves the scissors in the culprit's calf as he steps over the teenager. Screaming, the attacker instinctively reaches for his leg, lowering the gun for a swift moment. Stiles still smells his own bile on the man's hands.

With one perfect move, Derek leans forward, breaks the driver's wrist, grabs the gun and tosses it to the side. In an attempt to flee, the driver pushes the wolf aside and runs to the plane door, only to be grabbed by Derek as he reaches for his own gun, literally throwing himself at it.

Derek smacks him head first into the side of the plane. The attacker falls backwards, his eyes already dead before he hits one of the seats, bleeding out on the expensive upholstery.

Derek doesn't give the man a second glance as he moves forward towards Lydia and Liam. The Banshee wearily lifts her head, the pounding sound in her ears returning in full force. Malia reaches Lydia first as Derek takes care of the younger wolf. Liam opens his eyes gingerly, groaning in pain.

Scott kneels down at Stiles' side, carefully turning him.

'T – That was … exciting,' Stiles pants, clutching his chest. 'Is he …?'

'Yeah, he is,' Scott smiles. 'You saved the day, Stiles.'

'N – No, teamwork,' the teenager smiles, grabbing Scott's hand for support. 'N-Now I know how m-my dad m-must have f-felt when he found out about you.'

'He didn't call us freaks,' Scott smiles at the memory of it.

Lydia crawls up, holding the side of her head as she stares at Stiles. Her features are drained of any color, exhaustion lingering over her face. Derek quickly checks her out, seeing the confusion in her eyes. He recognizes the symptoms as she cringes against the light.

'You've got a concussion.'

'Another one,' Scott says quietly.

'I'll be okay,' Lydia mutters. 'He came out of nowhere, pretended to be out of it while we took care of Stiles. He kicked Liam's legs from under him, knocking him out before I could do anything. It's my fault, I didn't see it.'

'Rest still, Lydia,' Derek gently speaks as Scott sets her down on a seat. 'You need to get to a hospital too.'

'No, I'm fine. How is Stiles?'

'Our hero will live,' Derek smiles, still wondering about what the hell just happened. Stiles, lying half dead on the ground, shoved a pair of scissors into a man's leg. Stiles, the kid who can't stand blood and is only half his strength, did that. Derek couldn't get past that tidbit.

Derek turns to Scott. 'Can you take care of them? I need to radio in the coordinates right now, so they can track us down.'

Scott nods as he takes Stiles' hand into his, praying his heroics won't wind up killing him. Withdrawing some of the pain, his best friend feels a bit of release.

Stiles grasps Lydia's hand and squeezes her fingers. 'Y … you okay?'

'Yeah, thanks to you,' she smiles wearily. 'Leave it up to you to take out a killer like that. Bile and scissors, what else do you need, right?'

'K-knew plane sickness w-would come in handy,' he grunts.

'Just rest now.'

Stiles smiles weakly, allowing the pain to finally return to him. Malia rubs his back gently, her hands placed at the exact spots she knows will relief some of the pain.

'My hero,' she smiles, kissing him softly on the cheek.

'Y - You are my heroes,' he retorts, having trouble breathing.

'Our second guy is still out,' Liam says, checking up on the man they tied up against the plane's wheel. 'I wouldn't mind slashing a throat, for once. Bastard.'

Scott looks at him, understanding perfectly what he's saying. 'He'll get what he deserves,' he says. 'But it's not up to yes to do that.'

Scott listens to Derek speak in the headset and explains what is going on. Then everything just stops. The radio switches off, the lights go out. A deadly silence remains. They have run out of fuel.

'Damn!' they hear Derek curse.

'Did they get the coordinates?' Scott asks frantically.

'I hope so,' Derek grumbles, throwing down the headset. 'Mike said they were very close. They're sending out the chopper too. They'll find us now.'

Lydia can only hope the wolf is right. She knows that every single second counts from now on. Stiles' minutes are literally numbered.


	16. The Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and following!

Chapter 16: The Voices

Stiles is carefully returned to his improvised bed in the back, lying on his side, squeezing his eyes whenever the pain becomes worse. Scott, Derek and Liam have taken turns into taking away his pain, but it's not enough. The pain radiates throughout, startling them all.

He is slipping in and out of consciousness now, mumbling to himself.

Derek heads back towards the front of the plane, fiddling with the buttons as he tries to get the plane to start again. Finally he figures out how the dashboard works, pushing one tiny black button that activates a very small tank with reserve fuel.

Lights switch back on, along with the plane's air-conditioning unit, which immediately blows cold air inside the plane's belly.

'Turn it off,' Scott calls out. Derek switches off all he can, except for a few cabin lights and the intercom.

'Are you guys there?' they hear Mike call out.

'We're here,' Derek reacts, explaining what happened.

A unified sigh of relief is heard on the other side of the radio. 'That fuel will buy you an hour extra time if you use it wise,' Mike says. 'Is everyone okay?'

'Yeah,' Derek says, speaking aloud for them all. 'But we need more medical help. Lydia has a concussion.'

'No, I don't,' Lydia wants to say but she stops when she feels nausea build up from the inside.

Dr. Wills' voice appears as he asks her details. She interrupts him halfway through the questions.

'Derek is right,' she speaks with a small voice as they explain what happened. 'I probably do have a concussion but it's okay. I'll live.'

'How is Stiles holding up?'

'He's still alive,' Scott says, his tone of voice saying enough.

'Just hold on. We're nearly there, especially now with the coordinates you gave us,' Mike tells them. 'They will find you any minute now.'

'Every second counts,' Derek says, going crazy as time seems to crawl by.

Scott nods without looking at him, focusing completely on Stiles, whose breathing seems to be slowing down. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

'He's passing out,' Derek whispers to Scott. 'He's used up all of his strength.'

'We have to keep him awake somehow,' Scott sighs wearily. 'Talk to him.'

Liam looks up suddenly. 'Mike, can you guys play some Lady Gaga-music?'

A silence follows. 'Lady Gaga?'

'Yeah, Poker Face or something like that.'

'Sure, I think we can arrange that,' Mike replies, his voice filled with question marks. The pack looks at each other as the cabin fills with music, sending Lady Gaga's firm voice through the speakers. The pack watches Stiles as he listens with closed eyes, taking in the music. Then his mouth moves and Lydia swears she can hear him hum along, going through the musical motions.

'Oh god,' Derek mutters. 'He truly is a geek.'

'A – And proud of it t-too,' Stiles replies.

Laughter erupts from the other side of the radio.

As they listen to the song, holding Stiles' hands, while they sit in unison, the group has never felt this close. Somehow, despite it all, this has brought them together.

'I wish Kira was here,' Scott whispers.

Then, the music is interrupted by a warm and known voice. 'But I am, Scott.'

The group looks up surprised as Kira's voice sounds through the speakers, as if she's there with them in the cabin.

'Kira?' Scott asks relieved, 'how can that be?' The Alpha stands, staring at the cockpit, almost expecting her to stand right there before him.

'Stiles' dad called me and picked me up halfway. My parents immediately dropped everything,' Kira explains. 'I'm in Palm Springs, with Mike and the team. Stiles' dad is on his way to get you all. Stiles, you just hold on there. We're all here for you, okay? You're doing so well. You can't give up now.'

Scott feels tears well in his eyes at the realization Kira is so close he can almost feel her. 'Thank you,' he speaks with a smile in his voice.

'I'll be waiting here for you,' she promises. 'Love you all.'

Scott looks at Stiles who listens intently to Kira's voice, taking it all in. Then Mike takes over again.

'Stiles, I have someone else who would like to speak to you. Just a second.'

Before he can react, the voice of Stiles' dad resounds through the intercom. It's obvious he's in a helicopter, as the sound of the wind and cockpit noise is clearly audible.

'Stiles, it's me,' the Sheriff says, for everyone listening in to hear. 'We're nearly there, son. You've been doing so well. You just hang in there, we're just a few minutes away now. I'm coming for you.'

Tears well into Stiles' eyes as he listens to his dad's oh so familiar voice.

'Dad,' he smiles, knowing his father is near. 'Love you, dad.'

'I love you too, son. Don't give up now. You can hold on for just a little while longer. I know you can. You're not a quitter. You can do this.'

'I'm afraid, dad.'

'I know you are, son. But you've never been alone. Just hold on.'

Lydia looks at Stiles, a sad smile toying on her face. He suddenly looks up, his feverish eyes seeking them all out. He gazes at them one by one and ends up with Scott, forcing his friend to look him straight in the eye.

'Hey … Scotty,' Stiles croaks, grasping his best friend's hand. 'Stop – stop feeling so damned guilty. You … saved me. You did fine, you did so well. You p-protected us. I'm – I'm so proud of you.'

Scott watches him surprised. 'Stiles, save your voice,' forcing himself to take as much pain relief as he possibly can.

'N- No … I have to … have to say this now,' the teenager whispers, his voice barely audible. He knows the outside world is listening in, just like his dad is, and he weighs his words. His eyes glance, showing the high fever attacking his body. He's ghastly pale, more grey than he was before.

'Stiles, don't, please,' Scott begs. 'Don't say anything.'

'Scotty, I love you, d-dude. You kept me sane all of these exciting years. Without you I would have … h – have given up … a long time ago. W-When my m-mom d-died, y-you kept me whole. You're – you're my amazing friend.' Stiles stops, coughing roughly, holding back a cry of pain as he does.

'Stiles, stop talking,' Scott replies fiercely. 'You'll be fine. I won't let you go. I love you too, okay? You're crazy, sarcastic and hyperactive and totally insane at times. Your brilliant mind is full of nutty ideas and you can never stop talking when you need to, but I wouldn't want to miss you for a single day. I need your craziness.'

Tears fall from the Alpha's eyes as he squeezes Stiles' hand.

Stiles' eyes find Lydia's as he smiles at her. 'Y- You know what I need to s-say. I don't h – have to say it out loud.'

'You don't,' Lydia smiles through her tears. 'I love you too.'

Stiles smiles, coughing for the second time. Then he looks at Malia, knowing all that needed to be said, they had done before. 'M – Malia, you c-crazy beautiful w-woman.'

'You weird, frail nerd,' she retorts, kissing him gently on the lips.

'You are the b-best.'

Malia quietly presses Stiles' warm hand against her face.

'L – Liam, you need to take c – care of Liam too,' Stiles whispers, grabbing Scott as he gazes at the younger wolf, who stands back fighting his emotions.

Stiles knows exactly how he feels about Liam and the bond they have together. The craziness combined with a sense of family, of a brother-like teasing and of a certain fellowship while watching their Lord of the Rings-marathons together. All the time trying to get Scott to pitch in too. But he never does, because he wants the two of them to have these times together.

Stiles calls the younger wolf Frodo, while Liam calls him Gimli, accusing him of the same insane humor the dwarf has. Which annoys Stiles, because he would have preferred to be Aragorn, as he admires him the most.

Liam leans forward, reaching for his wrist.

'You were SO Aragorn tonight,' he says gently.

Stiles just smiles. 'Y-Yes. S-Score.'

The hurt human looks around, not finding the last one he needs to speak to. 'N – Need to s – speak to D – Derek.'

The older wolf has heard every single word and steps into sight, watching Stiles' strained features. He knows the teenager's heartbeat is slowing down even more, as his body is finally giving up the fight. He knows there is still a chance Stiles won't make it and it hurts him like hell.

'D – Derek, p – promise me you'll t – take care of them,' Stiles pleads as the others stand back.

'I will, and so will you,' Derek says, grabbing Stiles' hand to draw out more pain. 'We'll do it together, okay? These crazies need you, you know?'

'No n – need,' Stiles replies softly, smiling at Derek. 'It d – doesn't h – hurt a – anymore.'

Derek startles, but not so much as Scott who moves back to him, remembering the last time this happened. Allison also felt no pain right before she died.

'No,' Scott cries out as he kneels down. 'No, Stiles. Don't you dare. You need to hold on, dude. Come on!'

'I see lights,' Liam calls out. 'Look!'

The wolf and Malia run outside as they see flecks of light dance over the hill.

The flecks of light turn into bright lights, approaching them rapidly. Malia shouts and waves as they spot more lights approaching them on the lonely road.

'They're here!' she shouts as dozens of lights near them, illuminating the entire area. Cars seem to come from different directions now, surrounding the plane. A helicopter surprises them as it arrives from behind the hill, followed by a second one. The two swerve over them, landing less than a hundred yards away from the plane. Immediately several people run out towards them, exiting cars and choppers. The entire area is lit.

Lydia grabs Stiles' wrist, forcing him to listen to her.

'Stiles? They're here, Stiles. Just don't leave us now, okay? Hold on, they're nearly here. Can you see the lights outside? They found us, Stiles.'

Stiles smiles a weary smile. 'So tired, Lydia.'

'I know you are, but you can't sleep now,' she pleads while Derek gently touches his arm. 'Come on, we didn't come this far for you to give up now.'

Stiles smiled, pulling Lydia's hand back to his face, kissing the back of it. 'Thank … Thank you.'

'Save your strength. Focus on your breathing.' Her eyes find Derek's, betraying her fear, fighting to stay awake herself as her head is about to explode. She knows the feeling that is building up inside of her, betraying Stiles' death.

'Tell them to hurry,' she speaks sharply to Derek.

Liam watches people running towards them, carrying torches and medical equipment. Derek rushes towards the door, shouting to them to hurry up.

Scott can hear car doors slam, several voices talking to Derek, Malia and Liam and footsteps running towards the aircraft. He can hear Stiles' dad!

'Stiles, your dad is here,' Scott says, 'can you hear him?'

'Did you hear that, Stiles?' Lydia shakes him lightly, willing him to look at her. 'He's here, he came for you. Your dad is here.'

The Alpha looks down at Stiles, but he doesn't reply. His head has slumped to the side, his eyes are closed, his body is no longer moving and his hand is no longer clutching his chest.

'Stiles … Oh god, Stiles, don't do this to me.' Lydia can hear her own voice become hysterical, all the emotions of the evening finally taking over as she realizes her sense is right.

'Scott,' she screams, 'he's not breathing, I need help, now!'

Frantically she turns Stiles on his back, trying to remember how to clear his airways. Then the plane fills up with light and noise.

Lydia moves up as several men and women enter the cabin, Stiles' dad and Scott's mom included. They push her gently aside and lean over Stiles.

'Not breathing,' she hears, 'respiratory arrest. Get the breathing tube in.'

'He's still breathing,' Scott mutters. 'I can hear his heartbeat.'

A man looks at him strangely, then immediately agrees as he examines Stiles' still form. 'He's right, there is still a weak heartbeat.'

Lydia leans back on one of the passenger seats, feeling just as weak as Stiles for a second, and stares at the medical team worrying over him.

Only when she hears, 'breathing tube is in, we've got him on oxygen, he's fine for now. Prepare for transport,' she can relax. Lydia feels a heavy weight lift off her shoulders.

She looks up as the sheriff grabs her tight, holding her against him while his eyes focus on his son. He lets go almost immediately after, taking his son's hand into his, speaking gently to him.

'Stiles, I'm here,' he whispers, 'you'll be alright, son. You made it.'

With shivering legs Lydia stands upright, watching the paramedics as they bring in a gurney and carefully lift Stiles onto it, strapping him in and placing warm blankets over his body. She sees a tube coming out of his throat, attached to a respiratory device. Another IV is inserted, with another saline bag, pain relief and antibiotics. Stiles is totally out of it and not aware of what's going on.

One of the paramedics turns towards her and gently places a hand on her shoulder. 'He's going to be fine,' he reassures her. 'We're taking over his lung function now. He'll make it. All of you saved his life. You are an extraordinary bunch of kids.'

Derek grabs her tight before she can topple over, taking her with him as they exit the plane, where the others are waiting for them. Nobody takes a second glance at the dead man still sitting on the chair. They'll deal with that later.


	17. The Helicopters

**Chapter 17: The Helicopters**

Carefully, with joined effort, Stiles is gently lifted out of the plane and carried towards the waiting helicopter. Several people look at him, patting him on the legs as they go. A few medics handle the medical equipment as others walk with him.

The others stare at the many people that are there for them, shocked such a large group turned up in the middle of the desert.

'Oh god,' Scott says, staring at the scene. 'This is unbelievable.'

Several people walk towards them with blankets, food and water, but the five of them don't even see it as they rush in unison after Stiles, until they reach the stretcher he's lying on.

'Stiles,' Malia says, gently reaching for his hand as she walks in pace with the medical crew. She squeezes his fingers tight, tears flowing freely down her face as he doesn't respond. She's usually a tough one, but right now, Malia doesn't care who sees her like this. Lydia reaches for her friend, holding Malia tight against her as she finally, reluctantly lets go of Stiles' hand.

The group follows until they are stopped gently at a short distance of the waiting helicopter. Melissa walks with her son, asking him quietly if they're all okay. He tells her briefly what happened with the mountain lions and the two men, reassuring her they're all fine and unharmed and asks her to take care of Lydia.

Sheriff Stilinski walks with the gurney, watching how they load his son into the belly of the medical helicopter that will fly him directly to Palm Springs. As they strap the gurney tight, the others stand, hugging each other.

'Another flight,' Derek murmurs, 'he would have loved that.'

'Good thing he's asleep this time, without Dramamine,' Liam remarks, smiling as the group suddenly grins.

'He won't puke this time though,' Scott murmurs.

'If he would be awake right now, would he dare to complain about the rough ride?' Lydia asks, leaning into Scott.

'Oh yeah,' the others reply in unison, smiling at the sudden vision of Stiles alive and well, complaining loudly about the horrible pilot taking nosedives with his flying coffin.

As Stiles is being prepped for transport, Sheriff Stilinski turns around, marching to the five who saved his son. Then he moves towards them, hugging them fiercely, one by one, thanking them. He ends with Derek, embracing him too. The wolf pats his back gently. Teary-eyed, Stilinski tells them how proud he is of them.

'Nobody would have been able to keep him alive but the lot of you,' he smiles, before hopping into the helicopter to stay by Stiles' side.

After that, things happen very quickly. More medics appear out of nowhere and check them all briefly, telling them they need to go with the second helicopter. The local sheriff and a few deputies take care of the plane and the two men.

Derek points the local sheriff to the area where the crisped car is located. The body of the first attacker is photographed and wrapped. The second attacker, now awake, is pushed roughly inside a waiting deputy's car, muttering something about fierce eyes and freaky teenagers.

By then, the five of them are being taken care of.

'You're coming with us,' the doctors checking them out say, gently steering all of them inside the waiting helicopter. By that time, Stiles is airborne.

Lydia's pale features aren't even capable of smiling anymore as she takes her seat inside the helicopter and allows a medic to strap her in. The stress and pain in her head have gotten to her. It isn't until Derek gently places a second blanket over her shoulders that she realizes how cold she truly is. Melissa hovers over her, asking her questions. Lydia is too weary to notice they are silently checking her out.

'It's over,' Scott quietly says as he sits down next to the Banshee. 'We made it. He _made_ it, Lydia.'

Then he looks at Malia, holding her hands between his, smiling at her as he wipes the tears off her cheeks. 'He's fine, Malia. Stiles is going to be okay.'

Scott's words bring a waterfall of emotions to all. Lydia leans heavy into Derek who gently wraps her into his arms, allowing her to cry like she has never cried before. Then Malia leans over to her, grabbing her hands tight, saying over and over again that she saved his life.

When they take off, Lydia leans into Derek's shoulder, while Scott holds onto Malia. Liam sits on her other side, his warmth comforting her. Melissa watches them, her eyes focusing mostly on her son, who smiles at her tiredly.

The group clings onto each other, realizing this ordeal has changed their bond. They were already very close, but now it feels as if they truly are a family. Gently they all slumber while the helicopter returns to Palm Springs.

Lydia is exhausted. Now that the adrenaline kick is gone, she feels empty. Finally, the rocking movements of the helicopter make her fall asleep, only to awake with a bump as the aircraft lands next to the first one on the hospital roof, touching down only a minute or so after the first one has landed. It feels like they've been on board forever, but in truth the trip was quite short.

They hurry out of the helicopter and watch as Stiles is lifted out of his, his father holding onto his hand. Then the medics move him quickly into the hospital, and from then on into the ER, where several doctors and nursing staff are waiting, working fast as a team to stabilize him.

'He's in good hands now,' Melissa reassures them. 'He'll make it.'

The group heads nervously in the waiting room right outside the glass doors, the werewolves catching onto every single word they said behind the glass doors. They brief the sheriff who sits down with him, a worried frown on his face.

As doors to their right slide open, they look up expectantly. Kira rushes in, running towards Scott. With tears in his eyes, he embraces her, holding her tight against him. Then she moves to the others, hugging them one by one.

'I'm so happy to see you all,' she says. 'Are you okay?'

They nod one by one, but Kira knows they're not okay. Nobody's fine until they know that Stiles is going to make it.

A man in his late twenties stands in the doorway, smiling softly as he eyes them all.

'Mike,' Derek says, looking at him. 'Right?'

The man nods. 'You must be Derek.'

The two walk over to each other and then embrace each other impulsively.

'Thank you,' Derek says gently. 'You are the best.'

'No, you are,' Mike says. 'I'm so glad to see you all.'

The man embraces them one by one. As he holds Lydia as last, he feels the tension radiate from her form. The Banshee lets go first and sits down again, biting her fingernails as she waits for more news, refusing treatment for her pounding ears and splitting headache until she knows how he's doing.

'He's stabile,' Derek reports relieved. 'They're complimenting you, Lydia.'

She barely hears, leaning her head backwards against the wall, praying her senses will not suddenly shout Stiles' death. But her Banshee-self is quieting down. She has hope.

Melissa talks to a doctor and a nurse, checking on Stiles' condition all the time. Mike stays with them all, talking to them to keep their mind off things.

'He'll make it,' a nurse reassures them as she comes to sit with them. 'He's going to be just fine.'

The medical staff hands out hot cups of coffee and sandwiches. Lydia doesn't say a single word, refusing anything that makes her want to throw up. Every sense of hunger has left her. She listens quietly to the relieved chatter of her supernatural friends as they try to bridge the excruciating waiting time. Gently, music plays in the background.

'Do you hear that?' Lydia lifts her head.

'What?' Scott asks.

'Lady Gaga.'

The others look up surprised, wondering at first if she dreamt it. But then Scott smiles. 'I hear it too.'

'So do I,' Malia smiles. 'That's a good sign, isn't it?'

'So he really does like lady Gaga then?' Mike asks.

'Yep.'

'Cool.'

They jump up in unison when the doors slide open. Stiles is being moved out. The tube is still down his throat, the respirator is still breathing for him and he still looks terribly pale. But they know somehow that he's going to be fine.

'Hey kiddo,' his dad says, grasping his hand as he leans forward and kisses his son's forehead. 'You're going to be okay.'

Stiles doesn't reply, nor does he know his dad is there, but the sheriff feels that his fever has lowered a little bit.

'We're moving Stiles to the OR to repair the damage to his lung,' a female doctor explains as the nursing staff continues the short journey to the elevator. 'We'll get back to you as soon as possible. If you want, you can wait there too.'

'You go,' Mike says. 'I'll go back and make sure the plane is being taken care of. I'll check back tomorrow. You guys take care of yourself. There are a lot of people lighting candles for Stiles right now.'

Derek smiles as their savior leaves.

The group silently follows Stiles, standing quietly in the elevator by the gurney. Their eyes refuse to let go of him, fearful he might crash inside the confinements of the steel cage. But nothing happens.

They move Stiles behind doors they can't follow through and promise to brief them as soon as possible.

Tired, the group retreats in a small waiting room, where Lydia again refuses to have someone check her out.

The night already was a long one, but is not over yet. Another waiting period begins.


	18. The Banshee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much again for the lovely comments, kudos and following of this story.  
> Three more chapters to go ...!

**Chapter 18: The Banshee**

An hour or so later, another doctor in scrubs comes through the doors. This man, somewhere in his early fifties, pulls the mask off his face as he walks over to them. Instantly Lydia knows who he is.

'I'm Dr. Wills,' he introduces himself, looking them one by one in the eye.

'I'm very happy to see you all,' he says, shaking firm hands with all of them, his eyes stopping at Lydia, knowing without a doubt she's the one who punctured Stiles' lung. 'If you ever think about a medical career, I have a job here for you, Lydia.'

Lydia just smiles wearily. 'I prefer maths,' she whispers, remember how Stiles once told her she would be winning big prices someday. She's sticking to her first passion, for him. For herself. 'Besides, I'm not so keen on blood.'

Dr. Wills smiles at that.

'Stiles is doing fine considering what has happened to him, but he's not out of the woods yet, I'm afraid. As we feared, he's suffering from ARDS. Since his lung has been subjected to his broken ribs for some time, we felt it better to go in and see how bad the tissue has been damaged. Fortunately, we're in luck.'

'Is the long recuperating?' Melissa asks.

'Yes, considering the circumstances this is a small miracle. The tube you put in saved his life. Without it, his lung would have collapsed completely and he would have suffocated to death. The surgery itself was actually quite minor. But, we need to monitor him in ICU to watch his vitals and see how fast he can breathe on his own again. He went through a lot, so I don't want to take any chances. He'll need some time to recover.'

'How long?' Sheriff Stilinski asks tensed.

'it could take a day or two, or longer for him to wake up. We're going to watch how he reacts as he wakes up and then discuss treatment after that. We're hopeful though, Stiles is a very strong young man, otherwise he wouldn't have made it this far,' Dr. Wills reassures the sheriff.

'Will he have lasting consequences?' Malia asks fearfully.

'We have to wait and see,' Dr. Wills admits. 'Most people heal completely from a collapsed lung. In his case, seeing the timeframe between the actual accident and his surgery, a lot will depend on how he wakes up and how fast he recovers after that. We have to keep in mind that he has been left medically untreated for most of the night and that might play a factor in his recovery. It might take more time than usual.'

'Can I see him?' the sheriff asks.

'Of course.' Dr. Wills beckons a nurse to take the sheriff to see his son. Stilinski instinctively grabs Melissa by the wrist, pulling her with him for support. Scott smiles as he watches them disappear. As they leave with the nurse through the sliding doors, the group relaxes.

'If you want to, all of you can see him tonight,' Dr. Wills continues, 'but I would recommend that you rest up.'

The doctor eyes Lydia intently. 'Now is the time to take care of yourself, Lydia. I'd like to check you out. Derek and Scott told me you're having some hearing problems and that you were attacked and hit your head.'

'I'm fine,' Lydia mutters.

'You don't look fine. Come with me,' he beckons.

Lydia knows he won't take no for an answer, even though everything in her screams to stay here, with Stiles. Knowing there is not much she can do right now, she gives in.

Derek steps forward. 'I'll stay with you.'

'And I,' Kira says.

'And I,' Malia replies.

'We will all go,' Scott says. 'Stiles is in good hands right now and we can't do much more here.'

Lydia looks at them in gratitude. They follow the doctor back to the ER. Lydia leans into Malia, as they make their way back to the ER.

'We'll be right here,' Scott promises as she is asked to go into a small cubicle.

'Can Malia stay with me?' Lydia asks with a small voice.

'Of course.'

Lydia lies reluctantly down on a bed with Malia holding her hand, while Dr. Wills examines her, carefully prodding at the injury at the back of her head. She squints against the light, feeling nauseated once more.

'Your ears took quite a blow,' Dr. Wills says. 'Do they still hurt?'

'Not as much as before,' she admits, 'but they still ache.'

'Your left eardrum is swollen, your right one is torn. That must have been quite an explosion. How's the headache?'

'Not so bad.'

'Don't lie, Lydia,' Malia retorts.

'Okay,' Lydia sighs. 'It hurts like a bitch.'

Dr. Wills smiles. 'That was honest. I'm going to order a few scans for you and I'd like to admit you for the rest of the night. You need to get your strength up and some fluids into you. A good rest will make you feel better immediately.'

'Doctor, seriously, I'm fine,' Lydia protests. 'I just want to stay with Stiles and be there when he wakes up.' She knows pleading won't help.

'There's plenty of time for that, Lydia,' Dr. Wills is adamant. 'Stiles won't wake up for at least half a day. That gives you plenty of time to get some rest. You are hurt, you shouldn't underestimate the blow to your head.'

Malia gets the other ones in the room. Lydia sighs deeply as she stares at Derek, blaming him for being trapped in here. But the wolf just moves to the bed, grabs her hand and tells her with a quiet voice that she needs to be taken care of too.

'You won't be much help to Stiles if you don't get better too,' he says.

'It's just some rest, Lydia,' Scott reassures her.

With that, the conversation is closed. Lydia reluctantly accepts the doctor's orders and allows a nurse to help her undress into a hospital gown while the others wait outside. Lydia is gently cleaned up and moved to another bed.

'Can someone please call my mom?' she asks with a small voice.

'I already did,' Kira says. 'She'll be here in the morning.'

An IV is inserted into Lydia's hand. She stares at the nurse and Dr. Wills while they do this. And then the events of the night come back to haunt her. Suddenly she sees herself pushing the needle into Stiles' hand, sees the tube pushed into his chest.

The next moment Lydia finds herself bursting into tears, crying almost hysterically as she remembers every single detail of Stiles' hurt. She hears him cry out in pain, feels him squeeze her hand, senses the pain he's in. She feels it much harder than the others, as her Banshee abilities make her experience it ten times harder than them too.

'It's okay, Lydia,' Scott whispers into her ear, while Malia and Kira gently rub her arm, Liam touches her leg and Derek waits quietly until she calms down. Then he scoops her in his arms, pulling her against him as she clings onto him.

She feels herself slipping away, while they all say it's going to be okay and she'll be fine.

That's the last thing Lydia remembers of that night.


	19. The Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again so very much for the comments and nice reactions!   
> Two more chapters to go!

**Chapter 19: The Wait**

Hours later Lydia wakes up, feeling much better.

She's resting in a private room with drawn curtains. An IV is still dripping into her hand and a monitor checks her vitals. But, other than that, there's nothing tying her down to her bed.

She looks up to find her mom, Liam and Derek by her bed, all gently snoring, trapped in three small separate chairs. Lydia instantly realizes none of her friends probably slept decently all night. They're still here, dressed in other clothes and bathed, waiting for her to wake up.

The sun is up high, shining through the closed curtains.

Her mom instantly rises as she moves.

'Lydia,' she gently speaks, taking her daughter into her arms. 'Welcome back. You've slept quite a long time.'

Liam and Derek immediately look up, rising from their chairs as they notice how alert she is.

'What time is it?' Lydia asks.

'Around 5 p.m.,' Derek says. 'They've done some tests on your ears and scans on your head. You slept through it all.'

'The doctor spoke to me a few hours ago,' her mother explains. 'The damage to your ears should repair itself in the next few weeks. He said you're going to be hearing a slight ringing tone for some time. No music, headsets or loud noises allowed for now.'

Lydia snorts. Easier said than done for a Banshee, but she can't tell her mother that.

'Fortunately you don't have a concussion,' Derek says, understanding her reaction. 'They stitched up the cut on the back of your head though.'

'My headache is gone,' Lydia remarks surprised, eager to move and get out of the bed.

'They sedated you for a while to allow your body to rest,' her mom says. 'You were pretty much out of it. No wonder, after all that happened last night. I'm so proud of you, Lydia.'

She smiles, holding her mother's hand against her cheek.

'Where are the others?' Lydia asks, leaning back into her pillows. 'How is Stiles, is he awake yet?'

'He's doing quite well, all-considering,' Derek explains. 'They still have him on a ventilator though. Scott, Malia, Kira, his dad and Melissa are with him.'

'Are they all okay?'

'Yep, everyone slept for a couple of hours,' Derek reassures her.

'Can I see Stiles?'

Her mom pushes the call button. 'Let's ask.'

A few minutes later, a nurse, followed by another doctor, enters her room.

Lydia's fingers tap impatiently on her sheets while they examine her ears, check her responses and ask questions about her headache. Satisfied, the doctor approves her release.

The nurse brings in a cup of soup and sandwiches that she quickly devours, while her mom explains she was flown over by helicopter. She had been out for the night and Sheriff Stilinski hadn't been able to reach her when they contacted him to tell him about the accident.

It has been almost a day since Lydia properly ate and she's famished. Then her IV is removed. Another nurse helps her out of bed, watching her as she stands firmly on both feet. She feels absolutely fine.

Derek and Liam wait outside while Lydia dresses with the help of her mother, who keeps on watching her as if she's from another planet.

'I heard what you did,' she says, eyeing her daughter cautiously. 'Are you sure you don't want to practice medicine?'

'I'm thinking about it,' Lydia admits, 'but there's so much going on that I don't know if I want to make that decision now.'

'You do realize that you saved him?'

'He would have done the exact same thing for me. And he also would have pushed that needle in correctly,' Lydia smiles confidently.

'You have a lot of confidence in that boy. Whenever did that happen, Lydia? I remember that you hardly knew his name two years ago.'

'And then he became my best friend,' Lydia smiles.

'Are you sure he isn't more than that?'

'He is. But not in the way you think.'

'I've never heard you talk about anyone like that before. Not even Jackson, who you were so crazy about.'

'I know,' Lydia smiles. 'I can't even begin to explain how this works, but it does.'

Mrs. Martin smiles as she embraces her daughter. 'I'm so proud of you, whatever you do, is fine with me. As long as you do it with all of your heart.'

The group take Lydia to the small ICU, where five patients lie in separate rooms, hooked on machines. As they enter Stiles' cubicle, Lydia holds her breath, staring at the many tubes that flow in and out of his body. Many machines monitor him, surround him to betray every single move or change in him.

Lydia's heart stings at the sight of him, while the memories return full force, shaking her to her very core. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to walk. _I did kill him_ , she thinks, as she watches his very pale face and unmoving hands. He seems so fragile, lying in that broad bed, hooked on that respirator.

Malia, Kira and Scott stand as they watch her come in and stand frozen. Scott walks over to Lydia, taking her in his arms while he guides her gently to the bed. Malia smiles happily when she sees her friend, taking her by the hand.

Sheriff Stilinski is snoring as he's trying to catch some sleep on an uncomfortable chair. Melissa is outside talking to the doctors.

'How are you?' Scott asks gently, eyeing her. 'You look better.'

Lydia leans into him quietly, happy they were together last night and nobody had to go through this ordeal alone.

'I'm good. How are you?'

'Dandy,' Scott grins, smiling broadly. He takes a step backwards then and allows her to get closer to the bed. Slowly she touches Stiles' long fingers, feeling the warm but no longer feverish skin.

Stiles' still form is covered with a hospital shirt, but she can still see a chest tube running from his lung. It's a new one, replacing the one she put in. A thick, stretchy bandage covers most of his torso, holding his broken ribs in place. A medical pad covers the wound.

His right arm is strapped against his chest, while his left is lying freely besides his body. An IV is still inserted in his hand, leading into three different bags pushing fluids, food and medication into him. The ventilator is still lodged down his throat.

He looks as white as the sheets covering him, but his face is finally pain free. He looks like he's sleeping.

'He doesn't feel any pain right now,' Scott whispers. 'I checked. Wherever his mind is right now, it's resting peacefully. He's recuperating. The doctors are hopeful he'll pull through just fine.'

Lydia hopes and prays Stiles won't remember the excruciating pains he had been going through on the aircraft. Yet she realizes at the same time that his brilliant mind would probably remember every single detail of the ordeal. He'll need some help recovering from all of this.

'It looks worse than it is,' a nurse explains gently, entering with a chart and blood pressure equipment to check his temperature and vitals.

'The ARDS is under control. His lung is filling up nicely again and recuperating according to our expectations. He'll regain full use of it soon enough. The broken ribs will take some time to heal, but they won't cause any more problems to his internal organs. We're keeping his right arm elevated to release some of the pressure off his chest. When he's up and about, he'll have to wear a sling for some time. And his fever has gone done, the antibiotics are working nicely.'

Lydia takes it all in and just nods, realizing once more how lucky they have been.

'Thank you,' she says.

'I'll get you a chair,' Liam says as he leaves the room.

'I'm going to grab some coffee,' Derek replies, beckoning Malia, Kira and Scott, who catch the drift.

Mrs. Martin smiles as she kisses her daughter's forehead. 'My treat.'

Before Lydia can say anything, they all leave, abandoning her in that small room with Stiles and his dad, and a lot of machines surrounding her best friend. Mixed emotions wash over Lydia as she relives last night's events. She can't just push her cold fears away, replaying the events over and over again in her head.

Quietly she sits down and watches her quiet friend for long moments, her hand clutching the tiny little necklace her mom gave her for her sweet sixteen for support.

'You have to come back now, Stiles,' she whispers, staring at his pale, unmoving features, remembering every moment in that plane with him. Her fingers touch his, her skin feels his.

She knows he's happy with Malia and she is happy being on her own for now. After Aiden, she swore not to fall in love too soon again. And she isn't in love, not like that. But he's her best friend, her soulmate, the one who gets her. He's the one who never considered her an idiot, who saw through her armor and told her to get a grip.

And so she did.

'You do know you saved his life?' A warm voice behind her quietly speaks. She doesn't turn around, horrified the sheriff should see her tears. She doesn't have a right to cry, he does. Stiles is his son, the one he almost lost after losing his wife too.

'If I hadn't done it, someone else would have,' she speaks with broken voice, trying to regain her strength.

'Not by what I hear,' Sheriff Stilinski gently whispers, moving forward so he's standing right next to her. The next moment she's in his arms, resting her head against his chest. He grips her tight, leaning into her, whispering ' _Thank you'_ , while he comforts her.

'You have to let it go,' he whispers soothingly. 'Don't think about the what if's. Think about the things you did.'

'It was our fault to begin with.'

'No, it wasn't. It was an accident.'

'He didn't want to go on that plane and we forced him.'

'No, you didn't. Stiles knew he had to overcome his fear at some point. He lay awake nights about it and then he decided to go. Trust me, if he didn't want to go, he wouldn't have.'

'He did it for us.'

'No, he did it for me,' Stilinski smiles wearily. 'I told Stiles I wanted to visit some family in Europe someday but couldn't, because of his fears. And he felt guilty. He was trying to work through the anxiety, Lydia. That's what he does. That's why he was on that plane.'

'Even if he was so sick?' she smiles through her tears.

'Even then, mostly because of it.'

'He was bitching about it all the time.'

'That's what he does when he's nervous,' the sheriff smiles. 'You know what he's like. Cracking jokes and acting up. But truth be told, he chose to be on that plane. And he chose to investigate that car once he saw the crime. If he hadn't, he might not have been in this state he's in right now. From what I heard of the others, he was too close to the vehicle.'

'He wanted to investigate.'

'Because he's a sheriff's son.' The sheriff smiles. 'I'm pretty sure one day my son will take over my county. I'll bet you my retirement funds on that.'

'He would do great.'

'Yes, he would.' Stilinski laughs all of a sudden. 'Of all the things that could have happened to my son in Beacon Hills, he nearly dies because of an exploding car that doesn't have anything to do with werewolves or the supernatural. Go figure.'

'Yep, that sounds like Stiles,' Lydia mutters.

When the sheriff lets go of her, she feels much better. She sinks down by the bed.

'I still wonder why he loves lady Gaga though.'

Lydia snorts.


	20. The Jeep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, the final chapter of this story!   
> I want to thank everyone who followed and commented on this story.
> 
> I'm actually debating writing a sequel to it, with loads of things going wrong on their way back home. If you think this could be fun, please let me know!
> 
> Thank you again so much!
> 
>  

 

**Chapter 20: The Jeep**

The pack, Melissa and Mrs. Martin return to the room, carrying some extra chairs.

A friendly nurse closes the glass door to their cubicle, allowing them to sit with the friend they saved.

'It's a quiet day,' she says with a smile, 'you won't bother anyone.'

Everyone at the hospital knows about them by now. They were in all the newspapers, local and national, embarrassing the group. Reporters and TV-channels were very interested in the group of teenagers and one adult who saved their best friend's life.

'It'll blow over,' Sheriff Stilinski reassures them, 'by tomorrow some guy will fall pregnant of twins, announcing himself to be Jesus incarnate. Don't worry too much about it.'

'Now that is something Stiles would say,' Derek dryly remarks, staring at the sheriff.

'Hey, where do you think he gets his humor from?' Stilinski retorts.

Hours later, or so it seems, when darkness has already fallen over Palm Springs and people are chanting 'Happy Birthday' to someone on the floor, movement comes from the bed.

The first thing Malia notices, is that her left hand is shaking, moving up and down on the bed. The movement comes not from her, but from Stiles, whose hand lingers in hers. His fingers tense as he tries to get a grip on the situation.

Then his head moves and she can tell he is trying to open his eyes.

'Hey guys,' Malia whispers, shaking them all out of their daydreams.

Stiles opens his eyes frantically, showing fear and panic in them as he tries to recall what happened to him. Immediately he starts panicking, his eyes drifting to seek help. His left hand claws at the tube stuck into his mouth.

'Stiles,' Malia says troubled, jumping up so fast that her chair falls backwards, landing on the floor with a loud smack. 'Stiles, it's me. It's us. Stay calm. We're all here, your dad is here too.'

Stilinski moves to his son's side, holding both warm hands on his wrist as Stiles tries to fight the tube down his throat. Frantically Liam hurries outside, calling out for help, as the others approach the bed and try to get him to relax.

'Stiles,' a young nurse speaks, placing her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. 'You're in a hospital and we have a tube down your throat to help you breathe better. Don't fight it, Stiles. We'll get it out soon, okay? The doctor is on her way.'

Stiles makes gurgling sounds, hating the tube inside of him, but calms down nonetheless at the sight of his friends and dad in the room.

A female doctor walks in and examines him.

'Looks like he's back,' she says with an encouraging smile in her voice. 'Stiles, I'm going to pull the tube out now. It will feel strange, you'll feel as if something sliding out of your throat, okay? Try not to fight it as I pull it out, don't bite down on it.'

Lydia feels Stiles grasping her hand, squeezing it tight as the nurse and doctor efficiently remove the tube from his throat, immediately replacing it with an oxygen tube under his nose. Now that he's able to breathe better, he calms down.

'There,' the doctor says kindly, patting his wrist. 'Much better, isn't it? You're doing wonderfully well, Stiles. You'll feel better soon, I promise.'

Stiles has difficulty talking, his throat feels raw and dry. The nurse slides an ice cube into his mouth, which he sucks on gratefully, allowing the cold to soothe the ache.

He watches his friends and medical staff as they speak amongst themselves, checking the bandages on his chest, discussing his vitals.

'It seems the worst has passed,' the doctor says to sheriff Stilinski and his friends with a reassuring smile. 'The fever is down, his heartbeat is regular and his breathing is returning to normal. If this keeps up, we can set him up in a private room in the morning, where he can recuperate until he's well enough to go home. And by the looks of it, that shouldn't take too long, under the condition he rests and takes his time to recover.'

'That's fantastic news, doctor,' Stilinski speaks gratefully, a smile plastering his stressed face. 'Can I – can _we_ – stay here tonight?'

He looks at Stiles' friends, convinced they will never leave as long as Stiles is here.

'You'd better get some rest, Stiles will be sleeping a lot,' the doctor warns.

'We don't care,' Malia retorts quickly. 'Right?'

Nervously she glares at the others, challenging them to decline. But they don't. They all nod forcefully.

'We won't leave,' Scott says. 'He's our friend and we're here to stay. We don't care about sleep.'

'Exactly,' Derek confirms.

'We're not going,' Kira confirms.

Liam nods.

'Told you so,' Sheriff Stilinski grins, as Melissa grabs the sheriff's hand and smiles at Mrs. Martin, who nods too. 'I'm going to get some sleep now, son, and leave you in the good hands of your friends, alright?'

Stiles smiles at his dad before the sheriff leans over and kisses his son on the forehead. Melissa gently hugs him, kissing his one cheek. Natalie Martin kisses the other one, whispering in his ear how happy she is he made it. He looks at her troubled, wondering why she cares so much and what he did to deserve that.

The doctor smiles, leaning over Stiles as she touches his forehead gently. 'You're very lucky to have people like these looking out for you, Stiles.

Stiles smiles, his throat raspy as he speaks for the first time, fighting to find the right words. 'Yes, I am. They're my family.'

As the pack is left alone in the small room with the glass windows, Stiles leans back in his pillows, looking at them one by one as the memories return. Their eyes never leave him, all of them wondering what miracle kept him alive.

But Stiles knows it wasn't a miracle that did so. It was the way they look out for each other.

He looks at Scott, whose brown eyes quietly rest upon him. Slowly Stiles taps his index finger on the sheet, getting his friend closer to his bed.

'What is it?' Scott asks troubled. 'Can I get you anything?'

Stiles slowly touches Scott's wrist, weakly pulling him closer so the Alpha leans into his embrace. He places his arm gently around Scott's shoulders, holding him so close Scott can hear his heartbeat pound in his own ears. Stiles doesn't say a single word. As he releases him, Scott's moist eyes find his. The Alpha smiles broadly.

Malia comes closer, holding him as if he was made of china. He doesn't even know how to begin to explain to her how proud he is of her, but he doesn't have to. It shines through in his eyes. Gently she kisses him, before handing him over to Lydia.

The strawberry-blonde Banshee he has loved for so long, almost as hurt as he was, reaches for him, embracing him gently. 'I never got the chance to tell you, but thank you for saving my life,' she whispers. He stares at her unknowingly, until she gently tells him he was hurt trying to protect her as the car blew up. He smiles weakly.

Kira gives him a gentle hug, her dark eyes happy he woke and will be fine. He's grateful to have her here, taking care of Scott, whom she returns to after she lets go of him.

Liam approaches the bed and places something between his curled fingers. He looks at it, smiling when he sees a small LEGO-figurine of Aragorn in his hand. 'Told you. You were so the absolute hero out there,' the younger wolf grins. Stiles gives him a weak high five, happily gazing at the figure.

Derek hesitates before he comes to the bed, bear hugging Stiles awkwardly.

'You rocked out there,' the older wolf says gently. 'So tell me again, what color you want to get for your new upholstery?'

Stiles snorts, his eyes drooping as he finds it difficult to stay awake.

'Guys,' he rasps, licking his lips and wetting his tongue in order to speak again, his voice small and harsh as he finally does, beckoning them all.

'What is it, Stiles?' Scott asks troubled, grabbing his hand.

'Next time, we take the jeep.'

The End


End file.
